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A NOVEL 



by ERNEST H. HEINRICHS. 

» • 




.... «rs 

! JHL « tflSg 

\f-/ k 

' k "f V. »»*>"*'■ ■ 


3 >— 




NICHOLSON PRINT, 
PITTSBURGH. 


Entered according to Act of Congress 
in the year 1896, by 

ERNEST H. HEINRICHS, 

in the office of the Librarian of Congress, 
at Washington, D. C. 


PREFACE. 


It seems somewhat inconsistent for a person to inten- 
tionally perpetrate evil and apologize for it afterward ; yet 
we find in the preface of most stories of to-day, an 
apology on the part of the author, for inflicting himself 
upon the reader. Of course there is no denying that in 
many cases the apology is not out of place, and it would 
have been better for suffering humanity if the cause for 
the apology had never existed. 

In the present instance the writer has no such qualms 
of conscience. This story has been written at the request 
of a dear friend, who is one of its chief characters. Con- 
vinced of my inability for the task, I made all kind of 
objections, but to no avail. Still I was firmly convinced 
that I would eventually show my friend the mistake of his 
notion, when to my deep sorrow and dismay, he died 
before I was able to cause him to change his mind. Of 
course he died fully believing that I would carry out his 
wish, and to that fact this story owes its publicity. Sooner 
than break faith with the dead, I would dare anything, and 
while I am thoroughly aware, that I am more in need of the 
indulgence of the reader, than most persons who write 
for the public, I am willing for the sake of friendship to 
assume the responsibility for whatever shortcomings may 
be found in the following pages. 

E. H. H. 


Pittsburg, May 30th. 



i i 


HELENE 


9 9 


CHAPTER I. 


It was in 1849. 

Several European countries had only recently emerged 
from a revolution, which, while it had been succesfully 
squelched — albeit not without some material benefit to the 
revolutionists ; its immediate consequences left these coun- 
tries still in a state of ferment The dissatisfaction among 
the lower classes, which had been going on for many years, 
directed against all existing forms of government, had at 
last in 1848 broken out into an open revolt under con- 
ditions, undoubtedly very favorable to their cause. 

There had been many revolutions in the old world be- 
fore this, but they had been principally confined to French 
soil, in fact, as everyone knows, a revolution in France is 
a very common occurrence. In 1848, however, the staid 
and phlegmatic German was at last aroused to assert him- 
self and demand some of the rights, which an overbearing 
aristocracy had monopolized for centuries. Students of the 
people of Germany and their history have often expressed 
wonder that a race so sturdy, so strong and so enlightened 
should not have long ago shaken off the oppressive yoke 
of a government, which had two kinds of law, one for the 
aristocracy and the other for the people. The explanation 
is contained in the simple words: “Loyalty to custom.” 

The German is of an eminently conservative nature. 
He may emigrate irom the Fatherland, find a new home 
anywhere, but he will stick to the habits and manners of 
his forefathers for a long time to come. This fact is no- 
where more strikingly illustrated than among the Germans 
in this country. 

It was this loyalty to custom among the people, that 
worked in favor of the aristocracy in Germany and pre- 
vented the outbreak of a rebellion. The existence of cause 
for complaint had manifested itself many times and very plain- 
ly. The people had realized, years and years ago, the op- 
pressive tyranny of the aristocracy, they had frequently 
smarted under the whip. Yet, because these conditions had 


6 


been their lot from earliest recollection, every new generation, 
though it felt the yoke more keenly, refrained from shaking 
off the shackles, which their forefathers had borne before 
them. It had become a custom to them, and they were 
loyal to it. Naturally the class, which was enjoying supre- 
macy, fostered this idea as much as possible, in order to 
maintain the upper hand the longer. Hence the line of de- 
markation between the commoners and the aristocrats was 
nowhere more sharply drawn than in Germany. The dif- 
ference was like a gulf that seemed to be unbridgeable. 
In order to give the lower class a better realization of their 
own inferiority, aristocracy affected a position of distinc- 
tion that barred even the most remote approach. For a 
long time the nobles of Germany actually disowned the 
language of their own country, and spoke nothing but 
French. This was done to imitate royalty and display their 
vast superiority over the bourgoisie. 

Still, while the pitcher may go to the well for a long 
time, its career is bound to end. The feeling of discontent 
that had been rankling in the bosom of the people for so 
long had to break out some time, and there seemed* to be 
no better opportunity than the present. 

France and Germany were both ruled by monarchs un- 
equal to the responsibility of governing people, a*nd they were 
absolutely devoid of a single qualification, that charactizes 
men as rulers. To make matters worse they had also 
the misfortune of lacking able counsel— men with abil- 
ity to direct the reins of government for which their 
masters had not the least fitness. The outcome of it 
was that in France the king had to leave his throne, a 
republic was declared and Louis Napoleon Bonaparte, a 
nephew of Napoleon the First, called to the presidential 
chair of the newly created government. 

In Germany the Royalists had been more fortunate. 
The king was not forced to abdicate, but the people gained 
the splendid victory of compelling th@ monarchy to 
establish a constitutional government and create two 
H ouses of Parliament. While this was a long way from 
what the most rabid of the revolutionists expected, it was 
nevertheless a very creditable achievement. It meant the 
abolition of a regime of autocracy, the most disgraceful 
form of government for any civilized country. 

Of course with the declaration of the constitution the 
country did not jump into a condition of general peace at a 


7 

bound. Anarchists, Communists and extreme Socialists were 
still as much dissatisfied as ever, and although the more 
reasonable element of the people, appreciating the value of 
their victory, were content, there was still an internal agita- 
tion going on. Germany was like a smouldering fire, and 
the least fanning would have caused a fresh outbreak 
of the flames of revolution. It required constant watchful- 
ness, energetic action, and the greatest rigor on the part of 
the government to prevent this, and for over a year the 
country was in a state of mobilization. 

To make matters even worse, Germany was also for- 
ever threatened from France. It was argued at Berlin, and 
with what justification subsequent events have shown, that 
the French would invade Germany on the least provoca- 
tion, and now, since a Napoleon was again holding the 
helm of government, this dread of hostilities seemed to 
have a more realistic foundation than ever. 

In order, therefore, to be prepared for an emergency, 
Germany concentrated in 1849 the cream of its military 
forces on the Western frontier. The countries along the 
Rhine were practically one large barracks, Wesel, Dussel- 
dorf, Cologne, Coblence and Mayence were the points for the 
different headquarters. The last named city, owing to its 
situation at the confluence of the Rhine and Main, often 
called the key of the Western gate into Germany, especially, 
was filled with soldiers of all arms. Detachments of infantry 
and cavalry, light and heavy, were found here, and Mayence 
was completely in the hands of the military. The regular 
inhabitants were very much pleased with their uninvited 
guests, because they added considerable liveliness to the 
usual humdrum, every day existence of the place. They 
also brought, and this made them especially welcome, 
money into the pockets of merchants and storekeepers. 

Among the different detachments was one regiment of 
infantry, the Thirty-ninth, which enjoyed the peculiar dis- 
tinction of counting in its ranks the handsomest man in the 
Prussian army. This was Karl Junker, a private in the 
Eighth company. Apart from his looks, which by 
the way had caused him to be called “The Apollo of 
the Barracks,” Junker was a young fellow, generally liked 
and respected by his comrades. He had not many asso- 
ciates among the soldiers, in fact there were but two. 
These two had been his schoolmates, friends of his boy- 
hood days. They were all three about the same 


8 


age, and being drafted into the army, were enlisted into the 
same regiment and into the same company. Outside 
these two, Junker held no terms of intimacy with anyone. 
He was of a retiring disposition, which, being of natural 
origin, and not resultant from presumptious affectation, or 
an idea that he considered himself above his fellows, be- 
cause he was goodlooking, made him the more popular. 
He never allowed his prepossessing appearance to get the 
better of his modesty, and in consequence everyone had a 
good word for “ The Apollo.” 

Junker’s home was in the Rhenish provinces, where 
his father had the reputation of being a well-to-do farmer. 
He had received an excellent education, studied law, and 
if he had chosen, might have entered the army under far 
more advantageous conditions than as a simple private. 
It was on this point his friends considered him peculiar, an 
opinion, for the justification of which he furnished another 
reason, when he repeatedly refused to accept any military 
promotion or preferment offered him. To all propositions 
of that kind he replied good humoredly, but firmly : 

“ As a private I have entered the army, and as a pri- 
vate I want to leave when my time expires.” 

In appearance Junker was the ideal personification 
of youthful manhood; tall; of course, just below six 
feet and straight as a dart. He carried himself with an 
easy grace and an air of noble distinction, he had fair hair 
and his features presented the perfection of regularity ; 
Wherever it was, whether by himself or with others, he 
surely attracted the attention and admiration of everyone 
observing him. He had an expression in his eyes and in 
his face, that seemed to exercise a mesmeric influence over 
those he came in contact with. There was something 
about him, not to be described nor defined, which appeared 
to cast a spell, making those who came within the charmed 
circle, his friends and worshippers. Karl himself, and 
perhaps that was his greatest characteristic, seemed to be 
wholly unconscious of the effects his appearance produced, 
and he was ever the same modest young man without 
swagger or ostentatation. 

There was a great deal of sameness in the life of the 
soldiers garrisoned in Mayence at this period. The officers 
especially seemed to be chafing under the irksomeness of 
their monotonous existence. All efforts to enliven the every- 
day routine of doing nothing were constant and manifold. 


9 


There had already been a surfeit of balls, concerts and 
parties of all kinds and description ; but even amusements 
grow stale, unless they are varied. All resources appeared 
to have been exhausted, when suddenly the idea of horse- 
racing and sharpshooting suggested itself, and the scheme 
finding general endorsement as a very excellent one, the 
plans for its speedy execution were immediately prepared. 

No sooner had the arrangements been completed, the 
horses selected, the riders named, the prizes settled upon, 
when the day for the races was fixed. Everything prom - 
ised a festival of no mean pretensions and of great 
success. For the sharpshooting contest there were 
many entries, even a number of the sedate young 
men of Mayence had been induced to meet the military 
in friendly rivalry before the target. 

At last the grand day arrived. The weather was 
unusually fine for the season of the year. The town was 
decked out in flags and bunting from every store and 
residence. In the morning the different military bands 
made a procession through the principal streets, followed 
by a long string of carriages occupied by the officers, who 
were to ride in the races, and the sharpshooters. The first 
race was set to begin at 2 o’clock, but long before the 
hour arrived almost the entire population of the city and 
neighborhood assembled on the course, which had been 
laid out for the purpose on a large meadow in the 
vicinity. 

All the soldiers, with the exception of those who had 
to remain in the barracks on guard duty, or for similar 
important reasons, had been given permission to take in 
the fete, and as by a coincidence, Karl Junker, as well as his 
two friends Frederick and Phillip were at liberty, they all 
decided to go and enjoy themselves with the rest. 

When they reached the scene of the festivities, the 
first race was already in progress. It was not an easy 
matter to get through such a -crowd as surrounded the 
track, but these agile young men without much difficulty 
succeeded in gaining a favorable position. 

In the grand stand was to be seen all the elite of 
Mayence; the officers of the different detachments of mili- 
tary and their ladies, the Burgomaster and his wife, all the 
members of councils with their families and every one else 
of prominence was represented. 


to 


Junker, whose height gave him the advantage of 
looking over the heads of those around him, cast a glance 
at the occupants of the grand stand, and he was surprised 
at the large number of ladies he observed. 

“ By the way,” he said, turning around to his friends, 
“ did you not tell me, that a beautiful young lady is to dis- 
tribute the trophies to the winners in the different contests?” 

“Yes, that is right,” replied Frederick, “Lady Helene 
von Cannstatt, the youngest daughter of General von 
Cannstatt, but of course you know her?” 

“ No, I do not !” 

“ She is the sister-in-law of our colonel.” 

“ Let me see,” said Phillip, “ I have often looked at 
her admiringly, and I think I am able to recognize her 
among a thousand ladies,” and making another attempt to 
break through, the crowd, he succeeded, Junker following 
close behind him. 

“There Karl,” said Phillip, when he again looked over 
the rows of many handsomely dressed ladies, “ the fifth 
lady in the lower row of seats, is Fraeulein von Cannstatt. 
The one with the pink flowers in her hat.” 

“Ah yes, I see now,” replied Junker with his eyes di- 
rected to the place indicated by his friend ; and his gaze 
still fixed on the same spot, he continued : “I envy the win- 
ners in these races, not for the prizes they obtain, but for 
having them bestowed by such a charming lady.” 

“And I agree with you,” remarked Phillip, “ because I 
do believe she is the most beautiful woman I have ever 
seen, and they say, that she is as good as she is beautiful.” 

While they were indulging in this eulogy of the young 
lady, there was a commotion in the crowd around them, 
and in the distance arose sounds of shrieking and yelling, 
that seemed to bring terror into the hearts of everybody 
who heard it. 

“ What is that ? What can that noise mean ?” — these 
and many other questions were hurriedly uttered on all 
sides. 

“ That does not sound as if the winner was being cheered 
or the racers encouraged to increase their efforts ; what is 
it that can have happened ?” Someone in the crowd had 
made this remark, and even while he was yet speaking, an 
explanation of the noise appeared in the distanee. A horse 
came tearing down the track around the bend in the 


I 


course, running at a maddening gallop. There was no 
rider on the animal’s back, but as it came nearer, a human 
form was recognized being dragged along over the 
ground with head down and one foot in a stirrup. The 
sight was horrifying and the sickening spectacle created a 
panic among the crowd, apalled with terror, some women 
shrieked, while others fainted and as for the men, those 
who had not completely lost their heads used their presence 
of mind by yelling to the people to keep back and fly for 
their lives. 

Junker, and his two friends had noticed the horse im- 
mediately after it had come around the corner, and as the 
riderless racer came nearer they realized the awfulness of 
the situation at a glance. Young, strong as they all three 
were, fear for themselves was foreign to their nature, clear- 
headed, and, as good soldiers accustomed to brave any 
kind of danger, their minds at once became active in think- 
ing as to what might be done to stop the crazed animal, 
rescue its rider and prevent a dangerous catastrophe. 

“If that horse is not stopped,” said Phillip, “before it gets 
to the end of the course, it will surely kill some of the 
people.” 

“Oh, what would I not give for my gun this moment’’ 
that I might shoot that mad brute!” suggested Frederick, 
while Junker stood there, motionless, like a statue, his eye 
on the rapidly approaching horse, dragging its former rider 
behind. All at once an idea seemed to have entered his 
mind, and turning around to his friends, he said : 

“I am going to stop that horse,” and even while he 
uttered these words, he jumped forward into the race 
course. 

Most of the people, awakened from the stupor, which 
had at first overcome them, were moving backward from 
the course, as rapidly as the density of the crowd would 
permit, but when it was noticed that a young man 
boldly entered the track apparently to meet his death be- 
neath the horses feet, the unexpectedness of this spectacle 
made everyone halt and await the consequences of the most 
obviously foolhardy undertaking they had ever beheld. 

In the meantime Karl was quickly walking towards 
the middle of the course. His eyes had not left the app- 
roaching animal one second, in fact he had watched and 
followed everyone of its movements, while it came flying 


12 


along like possessed with furies. Evidently thinking he 
had arrived on the spot where the horse was sure to pass, 
he stood still and awaiting its approach, the young soldier 
divested himself of his cap and his coat, then he unbuttoned 
his belt, from which he drew his short sabre. Holding the 
blade between his teeth, he rolled up the sleeves of his 
shirt. Of course this had all taken place quicker than it 
takes time to tell it, and now — Junker stood there like the 
most magnificent gladiator that ever entered the arena. 
Quick though he had been, there was no time for him to 
spare. In the next second, the horse was almost abreast of 
him. This was apparently the moment Junker had been 
expecting; for as the evidently maddened animal came 
snorting and puffing along, now rearing on its hind legs, 
as if ready to force out of its way the obstructing young 
man with the sharpness and strength of its fore-limbs, 
Karl, with the sabre in his right, stooped down like one 
sees a cat crouch when about to spring upon its prey. Then 
the young man jumped forward and lunged his weapon 
into the breast of the animal. He must have exercised 
every muscle of his body when he inflicted that wound and 
no doubt his aim was unerring. No sooner had the steel 
been driven into his body, than the horse, after a few 
frantic plunges fell to the ground, a corpse. 

It was a marvellous feat the young man had accomp- 
lished. It required a steady nerve, a quick eye, an accur- 
ate aim and the strength of a Samson, but Junker was 
evidently endowed with all. After the horse had once 
fallen it never again moved a muscle. Karl imme- 
diately turned his attention to the young man 
who lay there an unrecognizable mass of flesh and bones. 
He unfastened his foot from the stirrup and laid him 
upon the soft grass. By this time, the crowd, who had 
witnessed the brave, heroic deed of Junker, returned to 
to the field, and everyone endeavored to get near enough 
to take hold of him by the hand, or tender him some 
words of praise for what he had done. This display of ap- 
proval for what he had considered merely an act of duty 
caused the young fellow to hurry away to the barracks as 
quickly as possible. He was followed, however, all the 
way by the admiring masses, who cheered to the echo- 
until his tall, handsome figure disappeared behind the bar- 
rack gate. 


13 


CHAPTER II. 

Not long after the sensational incident of the runaway- 
race horse had taken place, the scene of the festival was 
wrapped in complete gloom. What in the morning had 
looked so favorable for a day of unusual pleasure and en- 
joyment ended in the greatest disappointment to the officers 
who had arranged the fete, and to the people who had gone 
to watch the games, while at least one family was cast into 
the deepest grief and sorrow. This was the home of the un- 
fortunate young man, who had been killed in such a hor- 
rible manner. The rider of the maddened animal was the 
son of one of the prominent merchants of the city, and 
recognized as one of the best amateur horsemen in the 
province. The cause of the accident remained for ever an 
inexplicable affair. The other riders, probably because they 
had their minds and hands full, looking after their own 
horses, could not throw the least light upon the occurrence, 
and of course, the spectators were far less in a position to 
advance any theory for its explanation. 

It was perhaps owing to the obscurity surrounding the 
cause of the sad accident, which offered so little oppor- 
tunity for interesting gossip, that the heroic intervention of 
young Junker became the subject of general attention, and 
that night the name of “The Apollo of the Barracks” was 
in everybody’s mouth. 

Upon leaving the race course, the young man hur- 
riedly returned to his quarters in the barracks. Entering 
the company’s messroom he found his two friends sur- 
rounded by a large crowd of soldiers, who listened very at- 
tentively to Frederick’s version of the recent occurrence. 
His advent into the room seemed to have been unobserved, 
and as he heard his friends describing the part he had 
taken, in the most glowing terms, Junker was about to 
modestly withdraw into a corner by himself, when his pres- 
ence became noticed. It was the signal for a spon- 
taneous ovation. The boys nearly fell over each other 
in their eagerness to shake him by the hand and 
overwhelm him with congratulations upon his heroic deed. 
Karl quietly disclaimed any right to be called a hero, 
but his friends asserted, that he allowed modesty to over- 
shadow good judgment. Then he was urged to tell them 
the details of the incident in his own words, and though 


14 


objecting to this for a long time, he gave in at last. He had 
not proceeded, however, very far, when Frederick inter- 
rupted him and turning toward the crowd, said: 

“He is diverting the truth to belittle himself, don’t 
listen to him, let me tell you how it happened.” 

This interruption caused a general uproar, during which 
Junker succeeded in slipping from the room without being 
observed. 

“I am glad to have escaped so easily,” he thought, “no 
doubt they all mean well, but to hear one’s praises sung, 
because one performs a simple act of human kindness, be- 
comes nauseating. I will take a walk out in the open, 
where nobody knows me, and I won’t return until bedtime, 
so as not to hear any more about the affair.” 

He had walked along and arrived in the front 
of Colonel Von Wuesthoff’s residence when the door 
opened, and Junker found himself face to face with Fraeulein 
Von Cannstatt, the beautiful young lady he had noticed in 
the front seat of the grand stand at the race course. The 
soldier instinctively raised his hand to his cap and saluted 
her in true military style. He stood still to let the lady 
pass him, when she also stopped and addressed him. 

“Are you not the young man who' so bravely killed the 
maddened horse at the fete this afternoon?” she asked. 

Junker was amazed, not because he seemed to be 
haunted by recollections of that little adventure of his, but 
because this young lady spoke to him. And it certainly was 
an unheard of thing. He was acommon soldier, and she the 
daughter of a general, a lady belonging to one of the fore- 
most families of nobility in the country. As far as his ex 
perience had gone, members of the aristocracy, and es- 
pecially young ladies, never spoke to men like him, except 
in tones of command. He had never known of an instance 
where one of them deigned to address a private soldier in 
the street. In this experience Junker was indeed not alone, 
and it is not to be wondered at that he should have been for 
a moment dumfounded. But he quickly recovered himself 
and replied: 

“At your service, my lady. I am the man who killed 
the horse, though I cannot lay claim to the distinction of 
bravery you so generously attribute to me.” 

“Oh !” with a smile. “Now I notice that you are not 


15 

only brave, but also modest, which is certainly very refresh- 
ing to find in a young man.” 

Junker did not answer, but bowed his acknowledge- 
ment to this compliment. The lady, however had also 
noticed other characteristics about the soldier, though she 
did not express her opinion upon them, or it is safe to say 
she would very soon have made him blush. As Fraeulein 
Von Cannstatt observed'his fine handsome figure, the per- 
fect cast of his features, the noble, distinguished carriage, in 
spite of the ordinary uniform of the common soldier, and 
above all, his language as well as manner of speech, 
the lady felt an interest awaken in her towards this young 
soldier, that caused her to continue the conversation in order 
to find out more about him. 

“The occurrence of this afternoon has impressed itself 
very strongly on my mind,” she remarked at last, “and 
since it is but natural to associate you with the incident, I 
shouldlike to know your name.” 

“At your service, my lady. I am Karl Junker, private 
in the Eighth Company, Thirty-ninth Regiment of infantry.” 

“I am delighted to hear it, my brother in-law is colonel 
of your regiment. I have just left my sister, who r as you 
are probably aware, lives here, and I am now on my way 
home, where the colonel would undoubtedly have taken me 
had he not been absent, but since you are one of his sol- 
diers, I shall be glad if you will kindly act as his substitute.” 

This proposition was made so unexpectedly, it caused 
Karl to be greatly surprised, yet he was careful not to show 
what he thought when he replied : 

“At your service, my lady.” 

With these words the young man stepped aside, giving 
the lady an opportuntiy to precede him. This appeared, 
however, not to conform at all with the wishes of Fraeulein 
Von Cannstatt, who no doubt, divining his purpose, re- 
marked: 

“There is not the least occasion for this formality, in 
fact, I do not like it.” 

“Pardon me, my lady, but — 

“I understand what you want to say. You are a pri- 
vate soldier, and I am a general’s daughter, hence we must 
behave towards each other according to the requirements of 
our different stations. I prefer to meet and talk with people 
on the ground of equality. As you know, I happened to 


1 6 


be at the race course this afternoon, and was one of the wit- 
nesses to your heroic conduct there. The thought came to 
me then that I should like to meet and express my 
admiration for the man who so bravely held at bay 
that maddened animal by endangering his own life. 
This was the reason I addressed you just now as you ap- 
proached. It is an honor for anybody, and especially 
for a woman to be in the society of a brave man, and when 
I asked you to accompany me I appreciated your acquies- 
cence as a compliment, not as a service.” 

“Your ladyship honors me beyond my deserts,” replied 
Karl, as they walked together down the street. For some 
time after, silence reigned between them, until Fraeulein Von 
Cannstatt again opened the conversation by questioning 
the young soldier about his home, his family, his youth 
and his life in the army, apparently evincing a very lively 
interest in all Junker had to say about himself. Suddenly 
the lady stopped before the gate of a beautiful mansion en- 
closed by a minature park of trees, shrubs and flowering 
bushes. 

“Here I am at home, Herr Junker, and I feel greatly 
indebted for your kindness. Good by, and I trust we shall 
meet again,” the next moment she disappeared. 

For a long time Karl stood there without moving. To 
all appearances he was thoroughly bewildered, his eyes 
were gazing searchingly up the path leading towards the 
house, and it was but all too evident that the object, which 
they failed to discern, occupied his thoughts completely. 

The sun’s last rays, the golden messengers of approach- 
ing darkness, sent their farewell glimmers over the distant 
hills. Then twilight came in all its indistinctness, weaving 
the web of dusk and gloom into a sombre cloth, which 
gradually descended upon the earth, and covered it with the 
mantle of night. During this entire period, Junker had 
not gone away from the spot, where Fraeulein Von Cann- 
statt had wished him adieu. The neighborhood was a 
quiet one, and whatever arrested the faculty of his motion 
there seemed to be nobody to disturb him. At last the 
influence, which kept him rooted to the spot for so long 
must have let go its hold. He turned his back upon the 
gate and retraced his steps toward the barracks, but his 
heart was full to overflowing, and the pent up feelings must 
find utterance. 


7 


“This has been the most eventful day of my life,” he mur- 
mured, “I have been fortunate in preventing a disaster that 
might have caused the loss of a number of lives, and I have 
also lost my own heart. I love that young lady as woman was 
never loved before. How beautiful she is, and how 
gracious her manner; how lofty and noble her sentiments 
and how absolutely devoid of all haughtiness and aristo- 
cratic pride. This walk has been to me like a beautiful 
dream, the memory of which will linger with me through 
the whole of my life. Yes, a dream, which I am afraid 
it is destined to remain, for who has ever heard of a man 
from the people, like myself, a mere private soldier, to fall 
in love with a daughter of the aristocracy and have his 
love returned. Ah well, after all, I am not sorry to have 
met this lovely lady, even if it was only to lose her. My 
time— hello ! who in the world have we here ? 

And he might well ask, because Junker had almost fallen 
over the prostrate form of a man, who was lying directly 
in his path. It was a very dark night, the young soldier 
had been going along engrossed by his own thoughts and 
indifferent to all surroundings, when he met with this ob- 
struction to his progress. He stumbled for a moment, but 
quickly regained his balance, then stooped over the 
object on the ground, to see who it might be. 

“Good gracious, he exclaimed, it is a soldier — an 
officer — it is our colonel, and he is dead drunk !” 

This was an extraordinary discovery to make, and for 
a moment Junker staggered in contemplation of the awful 
sight before him. It is not pleasant for any soldier to surprise 
his superior officer in such an unenviable condition as drunk- 
enness. The chances are, the officer, constantly realizing 
that he must have sunk in the estimation of a person before 
whom he should always maintain perfect dignity, will seek 
to enforce the respect, which he imagines to have lost. 
The young man was of a far seeing mind and knowing the 
colonel so well, he began to wish the discovery had not 
been his. The officer was just now in danger of being 
killed, murdered or robbed, and Junker would not have 
left him so for anything in the world. The next question 
was what to do with him. He was about to lift him off the 
ground and place him on his feet, when Herr Von Wuest- 
hoff opened his eyes, he muttered some inarticulate words 
and then looked at Junker in a vacant stare. Evidently rec- 


tS 

ognizing a soldier before him, he drew himself up, as well 
as his condition would allow, and endeavored to walk. The 
young man maintained a discreet silence. Drawing the 
colonel’s arm through his, he held him with all his might 
and thus succeeded in piloting him along the street. 
Fortunately, the distance to his residence was not very 
great, and soon they arrived at the officer’s quarters. By 
this time Von Wuesthoff appeared to have sufficiently re- 
covered to retain his equilibrium. As Junker stood there 
carefully watching whether he might safely take his de- 
parture, the colonel gave him another stare. The look 
was not a pleasant one, and the soldier felt inclined to leave 
the man, who showed so little appreciation for what he 
had done. Still he determined to see him safely in his own 
house. In the meantime the colonel had opened the door, 
and as the key clicked in the lock, he turned around to the 
young man. 

“Ma — ma-rch ” he hiccoughed, pointing with his hand 
down the street, and Karl, saluting, turned on his heel and 
walked to the barracks. 


CHAPTER III. 

Junker had taken the measure of his colonel’s charac- 
ter correctly. The latter, though intoxicated, had not failed 
to recognize the young man, and the very thought of having 
been found in such a condition toy one of his own men, 
caused Von Wuesthoff to nurture a feeling of deepest hat- 
red against the private soldier, who now became the con- 
stant target for his ill-humor. The very sight of Junker 
had upon him the effect of flaunting a red rag in a bull’s 
face. This, for the simple reason, no doubt, that the young 
soldier was to the colonel like a looking glass, in which 
he always saw the reflection of his own disgrace. 

Karl upon going home after he had left the officer at 
his door, wisely decided not to speak of the occurrence to 
anybody. Personal pride and his self-respect prompted 
him to desist from hawking about a story, which would only 
militate against the honor of the regiment, as Von Wuest- 
hoff was its colonel. But Junker was also a gentleman by 
instinct, and the “esprit du corp,’’ remarkable in all Ger- 


rtian soldiers, was very strongly developed in him. 
It was therefore, surprising that the colonel, who should 
have been familiar with these phases of the young man’s 
character, treated him as he did. But Wuesthoff was of 
a low minded, brutal and coarse nature, who considered 
an army of soldiers like so many cattle. He recognized 
them not as men who might be possessed with 
fine feelings and noble sentiments. His concep- 
tion of authority was to rule with a rod of iron, and he 
sought to keep his subordinates in subjection by making 
himself feared, the result being he was generally detested 
and more disliked than any other man in the army. He 
was convinced that Junker had apprised the whole regi- 
ment of what he had seen, and as open punishment would 
have been a confession on his part, the colonel resorted to 
the weapon of humiliating the young man before his com- 
rades. 

Under these circumstances, it was very trying for 
Junker to bear his colonel’s malice, and he found his only 
consolation in the fact, that the time for his discharge was 
not very far off. He resigned himself with a feeling of 
sublime philosophy, and indeed it was the only thing he 
could do, because there were no means within his reach to 
check his superior officer in his petty spitefulness. Such 
were the conditions in the German army then, arfd it 
is little better now, more is the pity. 

The treatment Junker received at the hand of the 
colonel was a perfect enigma to the whole regiment, be- 
cause Karl was a soldier against whom no one could 
say ought, hence, it occasioned considerable speculation 
among his comrades. 

There were, however, many moments when the dark 
clouds overshadowing the existence of the young man 
showed a silver lining, and this happened whenever i he 
met Fraeulein Von Cannstatt, an event, which of late was 
not remarkable for the rarity of its occurrence. By some 
peculiar coincidence, whenever the young lady went into 
town to see her sister, the Lady Von Wuesthoff, she was 
sure to come across the handsome young soldier, and 
while it was at first the lady, who took the initiative in 
opening the conversation, it must be admitted, that after]a 
very short time, Junker 1 seemed to take it as a matter of 
course to meet Lady Von Cannstatt and take her home. 


20 


Junker- was quite aware that he was foolishly adding fuel to 
the fire which already raged within his breast, although he 
felt convinced that his passion would never reach 
the desired goal, he seemed to be satisfied. To be 
walking by the side of the girl he adored, to listen to the 
melody of her voice, to be looking at the beauty of her 
lace was enough to drive away the cobwebs of moroseness 
produced by the undeserved malice of the colonel, and 
when the lady on one occasion held out her hand to Karl 
while wishing him good night at the gate of her father’s 
mansion, the young man walked home transported into a 
perfect heaven of bliss. 

As for the lady, there is no reason to hold back the 
fact any longer, that she was just as much in love with the 
handsome soldier, as he was with her. From the very 
moment she saw him on the track of the race course, her 
heart flew out to the young man, overleaping the barriers 
of birth, position, wealth and every other social difference 
which separated them. 

Fraeulein Von Cannstatt, though she belonged to one 
of the oldest aristrocratic families of Germany, observed a 
total disregard towards these rules of etiquette, which were 
so rigidly exercised by the German nobility. At the time 
we met her at the races, Helene was 18 years of age. She 
and her sister, the colonel’s wife, were the only children of 
Friedrich Von Cannstatt, a Prussian general, and at this 
period commandant of the military forces gathered around 
Mayence. The general had been a widower ever since 
Helene had been a baby, and as the child was a winsome 
little thing, the father grew inordinately fond of her, so 
much so, that he never was so much pleased as when he 
had the little girl about him. He took the care of her 
education and her bringing up to a great extent into his 
own hands, and it was largely due to the liberal mind pos- 
sessed in some degree by the old gentleman, that his 
younger daughter developed similar predilections towards 
radicalism. Having grown up under the tutelage of her 
father, who was a thorough soldier, she naturally ac- 
quired a spirit of womanly independence, which made her 
altogether different from other girls of her class and station. 
German girls are brought up and reared into the most de- 
pendent women imaginable. Before marriage they are 
under the strict surveillance of governesses or their moth- 


21 


ers, and their existence is spent within a limited horizon. 
All receive a thorough education, often of a classical nature, 
but usually they derive very little benefit from it. In the 
kitchen and among equals of their own sex learned sub- 
jects are never discussed, and in the presence of men, fora 
German lady to display any knowledge except that of 
housekeeping would seem preposterous. A married lady 
in aristocratic Germany scarcely ventures ever to entertain, 
much less maintain an opinion different from that of her 
husband. The husband and wife really occupy two differ- 
ent worlds, the smallest of which belongs to t he woman, but 
the superiority of the man is so great, that the moment 
they meet, the woman bows in submissive obedience, and 
whatever prerogative of reigning she may have held, it is 
abdicated in favor of him, who is hefr lord. Independence 
she has none, except what is allowed by him, whose 
name she bears. 

Thus it happened, that General Von Cannstatt was un- 
wittingly the instrument of bringing up Helene and devol- 
eping her into a woman, who was much the better for 
being so different from her German sisters. In fact it were 
a good thing for all girls, if they could go through a course 
of study, where they had an opportunity to acquire a 
knowledge of man’s characteristics. It might be a lesson 
which would serve them well when they are older and 
compelled to cope with the cunning of the sterner sex. 

However, it must be remembered, that Helene’s father, 
in educating his daughter, had no other object in view, except 
to satisfy his own selfishness in not wishing to part with her. 
He was no pedagogue, and had he been able to foresee, 
that he was instilling notions of radicalism, of social equal- 
ity into her head, it is safe to say, Helene would 
have been sent to the strictest pensionnat sooner, than 
suffered to remain at home. Von Cannstatt’s ideas on 
these subjects were to him pet theories, the practical in- 
auguration of which he would have scorned to see establish- 
ed. He was as proud of his nobility, his name and ancestry 
as ever Patrician, who strode the walls of the Roman Capitol 

CHAPTER IV. 

Karl Junker one evening sat alone in the bar- 
racks. His hands were busily cleaning, burnishing and 
polishing his accoutrements, while his thoughts were occu- 


22 


pied with formulating schemes, plans and fancies, the 
pivotal figure of all which was Fraeulein Von Cann- 
statt. Suddenly he was interrupted in his flight of dreamy 
speculations by his friend Phillip. 

“Here, Karl, is a letter for you, which was handed to 
me at the barrack gate by a flunky in livery. It is a per- 
fumed note and the style of messenger makes it look a 
little suspicious. It must be a correspondent of the finest 
kind that can afford to employ a personal mail carrier.” 

Junker, without taking the least notice of his friend’s 
remarks, took the letter and quickly opened it. Phillip 
watched him read, and when he noticed that his comrade’s 
face became redder and redder as he perused line after line, 
he remarked: 

“That must be quite an interesting epistle by the effect 
it has upon the color of your countenance?” 

But the other did not seem to hear. Having read the 
note to the end, he turned back to the beginning, read it 
over again, finished it the second time, folded it up and put 
it in his pocket. All the while his eyes were rivetted to 
the ground in a vacant stare. At last he looked up 
and noticed his friend. Then, while a smile of sublime 
contentment settled around his lips and eyes, Junker grasped 
Phillip by the hand, saying: 

“My dear fellow, this is the happiest day of my whole 
life!” 

“A kind of * * rad letter day,’ as it were; I am glad 
to hear that/’ 

“Thank you Phil, I know you are a good fellow, 
even if you do make bad puns, and some other time I 
will tell you all about this letter.” 

Then he walked away to the dormitory of the bar- 
racks. Arriving at his own bed, he sat down, pulled that 
letter out of his pocket and again began reading it. This 
was its contents: 

“Herr Karl Junker: 

“You are no doubt aware that Jenny Lind is in May- 
ence, having an engagement to sing for three nights at the 
Opera House. I am, and always have been very fond of 
Jenny Lind, not because I ever heard her myself, but be- 
cause I listened to her praises from those who have. 
Unfortunately, however, my father, with whom I have 
always gone to the theater, is not well enough just now to 


23 


go out at night; but as I should be loath to miss this oppor- 
tunity, I come to and ask you will kindly take me to 
the Opera House. Unless you inform me to the contrary, 
I shall believe silence to mean consent, and I will be pre- 
pared for to-morrow evening, which is the night of ‘Som- 
nambula.’ 

“Without wishing to cause you the least inconveni- 
ence, I am 

“Helene Von Cannstatt. 

P. S. Do not come in uniform.” 

“I have read this letter now for the third time,” mused 
Junker, “and yet I can scarcely believe I am grasp- 
ing the facts it contains. I seem to be in a trance. 
Not even in my wildest dreams should I have deemed it 
possible that a young and beautiful lady, a real countess, 
would want to be seen at a theater with me, and here I am 
actually asked by one of them to go with her. Ah, but 
then Fraeulein Von Cannstatt is an exception. There is as 
much difference between her and the ordinary aristocratic 
lady, as there is between the sun and a shooting star. Yet 
withal, it is the most extraordinary request that was ever 
made to a private soldier; but to me, who loves this lady, 
it is a boon, the realization of which seems only a forlorn 
hope. Reason no doubt would advise me to refuse, though 
I know not how I could, and love, which knows no reason, 
says go, and go I will. At all events she does not dislike 
me, and while it will afford her pleasure to hear Jenny Lind 
sing, I shall be with her to enjoy the satisfaction of witness- 
ing her delight.” 

Having made up his mind to go, Junker immediately 
set about preparing for the next evening’s event. He se- 
cured leave of absence, then he went into the city and 
hunted up the best tailor that Mayence could boast of, 
whom he gave orders for a complete outfit of clothes, such 
as it was the custom for German gentlemen of that period 
to wear in the theater. He did not go to bed that night 
until he felt satisfied that he had completed all arrange- 
ments for as good an appearance as it was possible for 
him to make. 

Karl left the barracks the following afternoon as soon 
as he was allowed, and then struck a bee-line for the 
tailor to undergo the metamorphosis of a soldier into a 
civilian. The knight of the needle, an artist in his line, 


24 


observed the handsome soldier with great admiration, and 
when the young man stood before him in the regulation 
dress suit, he gave vent to such flattering terms that might 
have made anyone not quite so modest a*s a violet vainer 
than a peacock. Junker left the tailor’s in a carriage and 
drove to the Cannstatt residence. 

His arrival was evidently expected here. His foot had 
scarcely touched the broad, marble steps of the palatial 
mansion, where the general and his daughter lived, when 
the door opened and a servant appeared, who stationed 
himself at the side of the entrance, awaiting Junker’s ap- 
proach. 

“I have orders to conduct you to the blue salon, sir, 
where her ladyship will be pleased to have you wait for a 
few moments, may I beg you to follow me?” were the 
words with which the young soldier was received, and bow- 
ing assent, he was ushered into a room, the splendor of 
which almost dazzled him. But the servant had hardly left 
the apartment, and before Karl was able to turn around 
and enjoy an observation of the sumptuous elegance sur- 
rounding him, the door opened again. Helene appeared, a 
perfect vision of beauty. For a second, speech, breath and 
eyesight deserted him. By simple intuition he bowed be- 
fore this, the most sublime of all pictures, a beautiful woman. 

‘‘Good evening, Herr Junker,” Helene broke the 
silence; and coming towards him she greeted him with a 
smile so sweet, so bewitching, which could not help re- 
calling the faculties of Karl from their momentary paraly- 
sis. “I am very grateful for the promptness and readiness 
with which you have consented to my request; but indeed I 
was so anxious to. hear Jenny Lind, and papa not well 
enough to take me, I could think of no one else with whom 
I would sooner go than with yourself.” 

“I am sure your ladyship has conferred upon me an 
honor greater than ever I hoped to be favored with. By 
giving me permission to go with you to the theater you 
raise me to a height, to which I never, not even in my 
wildest dreams, dared or presumed to aspire.” 

“I am surprised to hear you say so.” 

“I am but a private soldier and you the daughter of a 
general.” 

‘‘Ah, but you forget, that my first impression of you 
was that of a hero, and heroes rank far above generals.” 


25 


“I am only a child of the people, merely a farmer’s son.” 

“Yes, and what of that? I have had opportunities to 
discover that you possess all the characteristics, morally 
and intellectually of a true gentleman, in which respect you 
have the advantage over the average young man of 
nobility.” 

“Your ladyship is extremely kind to entertain such a 
good opinion of me, and I hope I shall never do anything 
to cause it to change.” 

“I am afraid you under estimate your good qualities,” 
replied Fraeulein Von Cannstatt, smiling again. “When I 
met you for the first time you bravely ventured your life, so 
as to prevent any harm to hundreds of men, women and 
children. Since then I have been often enough in your 
society to notice that inasmuch as your conduct and intel- 
lectual attainments differ from those of the young noble- 
men whom I have met in our drawing room, this difference 
is in your favor.” 

It was a remarkable speech for a young lady to make 
to a young man, but then Helene was a remarkable girl. 
Had her education been entrusted to a lady imbued with 
the notions of German aristocracy, she certainly would not 
have made these remarks. But her father, the blunt and 
straightforward soldier, always saying what he felt, and as 
he felt, involuntarily and unconsciously developed that trait 
in his daughter to a very inordinate degree. The result 
was, that among the ladies of her acquaintance, Helene 
had earned for herself the reputation of “carrying her heart 
on her sleeve.” The conventional lies and hypocritical 
nothings in vogue among young ladies of her age and 
station were not known to Fraeulein Von Cannstatt. She 
expressed her opinion of everything and everybody in ac- 
cordance with the manner in which she was impressed by 
them. Convinced that Junker was the grandest man she 
knew, why should she hesitate to tell him so? 

As for Karl, he had listened, while his brain was in a 
state of tumultuous emotions, difficult to describe. For a 
moment he was dazed, and the blood rushed through his 
veins with the wildness of a waterfall. His first thought 
was, that his hopes had been realized, and she loved him. 
Had she not made him her equal by selecting him of all 
men to act as her escort to the opera? But better still, 
had she not just now attributed to him terms of exaltation 


26 


which could not be interpreted, except, that at least in her 
opinion he must be the paragon of men? The joyousness 
of these thoughts was blissfully intoxicating, and had Karl 
not been so excessively modest he would have acted upon 
the inspiration of that moment, and declared his love, but 
no? In another second his mind went off on another tour 
of conjecturing. So fearful was he of dashing the silver 
cup of happiness, which he now enjoyed, that he preferred 
to keep it rather than venture upon the attainment of the 
golden one. He was about to make some remark, thank- 
ing Helene for her kind and flattering compliments, when 
he looked up into her eyes. It must have been that he saw 
courage written there in very plain letters. Falling on one 
knee, his hands appealingly stretched out towards her, he 
burst out: 

“Your ladyship overwhelms me. I have no doubt it 
is natural for you to be gracious and kind to everybody; 
and if I have made the mistake of attributing your bestowal 
of distinctions upon me to different motives than you in- 
tended, I shall but receive the just punishment of presump- 
tuous folly. I love you Lady Helene. You have been the 
idol of my thoughts, the vision of my dreams from the 
moment I saw you on that memorable day at the race 
course. It was your presence which armed me to dare the 
maddened horse; and I know your encouragement would 
prompt me to accomplish far greater feats than that. I am 
aware that I am unworthy of you. I cannot forget that I 
am a peasant, you a lady of the aristocracy. Yet after all 
I am but human; the same emotions, the same passions 
control us all. and I should be less than human, were I to 
know you and not to love you. Realizing the vastness of 
the gulf by which we are separated through the accident of 
birth, 1 repeatedly formed the resolution to subdue even the 
thoughts of my love for you. It was a vain endeavor. No 
sooner had I made an effort in that direction than its 
effects were immediately frustrated by some new evidence 
of your kindness and favor. If I have displeased you, pray 
forgive me, and I will leave you; however, remember, if 
you could see yourself with my eyes and listen to the 
melody of your voice with my ears, you would assuredly 
call my offence a pardonable one.” 

Helene had listened with rapturous delight, and when 
Junker was silent she took him by the hand and drew him 


2 ; 


towards her. The handsome soldier kissed the cheeks, 
where tears of joy flowed down like drops of diamonds,' 
while she whispered: 

“I love you dearest Karl, and though you are a 
peasant, I am prouder of you than ever princess was of 
any prince or principality.” 

CHAPTER V. 

“My lady, have you changed your mind about going 
out, and shall I tell Johann to put the horses back into the 
stable ? ” 

It was one of the old servants of the Canstatt family 
venturing to interrupt the two lovers, who appeared to be 
totally oblivious to the rest of the world, Jenny Lind, Som- 
nambula and everything being forgotten. 

“No, Franz, I am ready,” replied Helene, and taking 
Karl’s proffered arm, they walked to the carriage to be 
driven to the opera, where they arrived after the perform • 
ance had already been in progress for some time. 

“Take me into Papa’s box, Karl” said the young lady, 
as he led her into the theatre. They reached their seats 
without attracting any attention. 

Somnambula, as everybody knows, was the fa- 
vorite role of the “Swedish Nightingale.” The house was 
crowded, and the audience seemed to be completely enrap- 
tured by the marvellous singing of the grandest voice ever 
heard from any stage. While society of Mayence was 
interested in watching the play and listening to the won- 
derful singing, no one had any idea that the young and 
beautiful Helene von Cannscadt occupied her father’s box 
with a private soldier acting as her cavalier on this occasion. 
Presently, however, the curtain was lowered on the close 
of the first act, and soon opera-glasses went up from all 
directions, levelled at the two lovers. In a few minutes they 
were the cynosure of all eyes and the sole topic of discus- 
sion throughout the theatre. Jenny Lind and her nightin- 
gale voice were forgotten. All the prominent people, of 
course, knew the Lady von Cannstatt, but nobody had the 
least idea as to the identity of the handsome young man 
beside her. It is easily imagined how quickly and absorb- 
ingly such a choice morsel of gossip was appreciated, and 
these people, whose lives were not fraught with much ex- 


28 


citement anyhow in a town like sedate, old Mayence, nat- 
urally made the most of it. All kinds of stories were 
quickly set afloat, and carried with almost electric celerity 
from box to box, from stall to stall. Owing no doubt to 
the dignified, gentlemanly bearing, the faultless attire, and 
above all the noble appearance of Karl, he was by unani- 
mous consent taken for a prince from a neighboring princi- 
pality. Everybody of any consequence was already enjoy- 
ing in anticipation the great honor of receiving an introduc- 
tion from Helene to the Prince X. 

Colonel von Wuesthofif and his wife, the sister of He- 
lene, were also at the theatre. Their box was located 
immediately above the one occupied by the two young peo- 
ple, and hence they had not yet seen them. In fact, the 
Wuesthoffs were totally ignorant of the excitement among 
their friends, nor did they know the cause of it, until at last 
somebody came and asked the colonel : 

“Apropos, who is the handsome stranger in General 
von Cannstatt’s box?” 

“Stranger where?” Wuesthofif answered, without the 
least idea of what the questioner was alluding to. 

“Why, do you not know that the Lady von Cannstatt 
is in the theatre with a very distinguished looking stranger, 
a gentleman, whom everybody believes to be the Prince X.?” 

Still the colonel did not seem to understand. 

“My sister-in-law is at home, as far as I know, and for 
all Prince X. is concerned, 1 do not think that she is even 
acquainted with him, so she could scarcely be here with 
him to-night, and certainly not alone. Is the general not 
there as well ?” 

“No, he is not ; they are occupying the box alone ; but 
I perceive that you do not know, and begging you to ex- 
cuse my intrusion, permit me to withdraw,” concluded the 
other, with a sarcastic smile. 

“Who can this be, and what can it mean ?” was the 
first question Lady von Wuesthoff asked her husband as 
soon as they were alone again. “You had better go and 
see !” 

“I suppose so, but not now. I hear the signal for the 
curtain to go up, and I will wait until the play has com- 
menced. My disappearance will not be so noticeable. Who 
can it be, anyhow? You did not hear of any visitor at 
your father’s house?” 


29 


“No, and I am as much puzzled as you are.” 

In the meantime the curtain had risen again, the lights 
were turned down, and Colonel von Wuesthoff walked out 
towards the opposite part of the theatre in order to have a 
good view of the Cannstatt box. But when he got there 
he could not see anything, except that the box was occu- 
pied by a lady dressed in white. He noticed also the scin- 
tillations of her diamonds, but nothing else could he observe. 

*‘What a fool I was not to think of this. Of course, now 
the lights are turned down, I could not recognize anybody 
in that box, even were it the king himselt,” angrily mut- 
tered the colonel; “the best thing to do now is to stand here 
and wait until this act is over.” 

He tried to get interested in the performance, but 
failed. Ever and again his eyes instinctively wandered 
across the theatre to the Cannstatt box, where they became 
fixed, as it were, in a penetrative gaze. But it was of no 
avail. The soft, hall light proved a too effective cloak. 
While his eyes endeavored to pierce the baffling gloom, his 
mind was engrossed with deep speculations as to who the 
unknown might be. He was aware that Helene was a prize 
upon whom every marriageable man in Mayence was will- 
ing to stake his all, and he also knew that hitherto the 
young lady had playfully, but determinedly checked all ad- 
vances in that direction in their very incipiency. Whoever 
he was, therefore, occupying that box with her to-night, 
must have been able to cause her to change her mind quite 
suddenly, and the man who could do that with Helene von 
Cannstadt must be a wonder, whose acquaintance could 
not be made too soon. Thus argued the colonel, who flat- 
tered himself possessed with a shrewd sagacity. 

“Hortense” — that was his wife’s name — “does not ap- 
pear to know anything about this affair either, or she would 
certainly have told me. Yet the matter is portentous, for 
Helene would never condescend to be seen in the theatre 
with any man, unless she preferred him to anyone else.” 

His patient curiosity was at last to be rewarded. The 
closing scene of the act terminated. Now the curtain 
dropped. The gas was turned up and the auditorium ap- 
peared in a blaze of light. Wuesthoff gave a fiendish glare, 
but he either could not or would not believe his eyes. 
Again he looked intently. Evidently convinced that he had 
recognized his man, he turned away and hurried to his own 


30 


box as quickly as he could, afraid that some one might 
stop him and ask questions, which he did not feel like an- 
swering. He got to his wife without any interruption. 

‘‘Let us go home, Madam, we are disgraced!” was all 
he said to his wife, and Lady von Wuesthofif realized by the 
look in her husband’s eyes that she had better not ask any 
questions. Wraps and cloaks were hurriedly picked up, 
and in a few minutes Colonel von Wuesthoff and his wife 
were rapidly driving towards their home. 

The young lovers, who so unintentionally had created 
all this excitement in the audience, were utterly ignorant of 
what was going on about them. The happiness, which had 
so recently shed its pleasant light into their hearts, was so 
all-absorbing that speech was abandoned between them. 
Apparently deeply interested in the story enacted before 
them, both were recalling again and again the incidents of 
the past few weeks, which culminated in the sublimely sweet 
climax of an hour ago. 

Karl, however, practical, matter-of-fact man as he was, 
soon came to a realization of his present position, and the 
more he thought over the matter, the darker grew the pic- 
ture, which gradually developed before his mind. He felt 
that in the eyes of these people in the surrounding seats he 
had compromised Helene irrevocably. He knew the ideas 
prevailing among these petty, small-minded representatives 
of the so-called “Quality” too well, and he trembled as he 
looked at the beautiful girl beside him, who, he felt, would 
henceforth be ostracised as an outcast, who had disgraced 
herself and them. And what had he done? Was he not 
an honorable man ? Was he any worse than they, because 
he could not trace his ancestry through a long lineage of 
robber barons, or some such aristocratic family tree ? Was 
it a crime to be born in a hut, and a virtue to enter the 
world in a palace ? No ! a thousand times no ! He was 
proud of his ancestry and of his forefathers, who had all 
been honest farmers, working day in and day out. And 
his father, tall, wrinkled and greyhaired though he 
was, a kinder, more generous and good-natured man never 
breathed, and he was worth a hundred of these old scions 
of ancient aristocracy, who had nothing in the world but a 
handle to their names, and there were few who did not use 
that handle to steep their own individuality in vice and 
dishonor. 


31 


This reverie of dark, evil thoughts could not fail to 
show its reflection upon such a clear, open face as Junker’s ; 
and it was not long before Helene awoke him, as it were, 
by saying : 

‘‘What evil genius is at work within you, Karl, dearest ? 
Your face seems to be heralding misfortune to somebody.” 

“I have been thinking what effect my being here with 
you will have upon these people in the theatre, what effect 
it will have upon society, of which you are the star. Be- 
lieve me, the more I think of it, the more I am ashamed of 
myself.” 

“And pray, what is it you have to be ashamed of?” 

“Ah ! you do not understand, but I will tell you — it is 
not too late yet, and there is still time to save you !” 

“Save me, save me, Karl — why, what morbid fancy is 
this, which suddenly seems to have taken possession of you?” 

“Listen to me, darling. I loved you so deeply, so as- 
sionately, that my reasoning faculties were for the time over- 
powered. God knows I would sooner die a thousand deaths 
than hurt a hair of your head. But I was mad, mad, mad! 
Do you realize that when you told me you loved me, you 
committed an act which has probably forever placed you 
outside of the cherished circle of your family, your friends, 
your acquaintances ? Do you know that you then took 
the first step toward a mesalliance? Do you realize that 
your father’s arms will hesitate to embrac you, your sister 
will disown you, your friends will shun you, and aristocratic 
society will forever shut its doors upon you ? Do you not 
know that, according to the ethics of the unwritten code of 
aristocracy, an alliance which for its foundation has nothing 
but mutual love is considered a fatal mistake ?” 

“My dear Karl,” Helene at last interrupted him, “do 
you suppose that all this can in the least influence me? 
Have I not pondered and thought this over day and night, 
ever since that first evening when you took me home after 
the races ? Mentally, Karl, I then placed you on one side 
of the scale and the whole world on the other, with this 
result : that the whole universe and all it could offer me 
weighed as naught in comparison with your love. Yet, 
withal, I am an aristocrat, but not, I hope, as the world ac- 
cepts that term. I have always felt that there really exists 
but one aristocracy, and that is the aristocracy of the mind, 
the soul, the character. Am I any the better for being 


called Helene, Countess von Cannstatt, than if I were sim- 
ply Helene Cannstatt ? Have I not been imbued with the 
hollowness of these nominal appendages ever since I began 
to understand their real meaning? Why, Karl, you can not 
really love me, if you think that I entertain any of those 
silly notions of pride of birth, rights of lineage, prerogatives 
of rank and what not, which are synonymous terms among 
our modern aristocracy, the upholding of which is almost 
their religion. In the cradle to me all human beings rank 
alike, in after life each one is what he or she makes of him- 
self or herself.” 

Karl listened to her perfectly enthralled by the beau- 
tiful sentiments falling from her beloved lips, his heart 
thrilling in deepest admiration. 

“How grandly you speak, how immeasurably proud I 
am to have won your love; and yet, darling, I can see no- 
thing before us but a vast blank, an impenetrable abyss. 
Ah, whatever you may think to-night, you can not realize 
what to-morrow may bring forth. To-morrow our presence 
here will be the one topic of the city. In the ladies’ bou- 
doirs your fair name and reputation will be dragged through 
the false teeth and painted lips of all the ugly old dowagers 
and simpering young misses of the garrison. Stories and 
rumors chameleon hued will be circulated, and reported 
to your sister ; if you venture in the street perhaps the sol- 
diers even of my own company may recognize you and 
point their finger at you, saying, There goes the Countess 
von Cannstatt, who was at the theatre last night with Jun- 
ker of ‘Ours.’ I beg, I implore, aye, I entreat you, my own 
misguided love, send me back to the barracks and the farm- 
house. Surely you must see it as I do : it is only for your 
sake, for your own welfare that I thus urge you. I have 
nothing to gain, nay, I lose all, yet I am willing to relin- 
quish the sweet rights you have yielded up to me to-night. 
1 will endeavor to bury their memory deep, deep down in 
my heart of hearts, while life lasts. Will you, Helene, will 
you give me up ? Say yes !” 

With a look of majestic loveliness and an enchanting 
smile, Helene rose from her seat, and placing her lips to 
his ear, she whispered : “I will never let you leave me un- 
less you cease to love me !” 


33 

CHAPTER VI. 

The next morning the news, that the beautiful Count- 
ess von Cannstatt had been seen at the opera the night be- 
fore with a very distinguished looking stranger, whom 
everybody believed to be the Prince X., flew from mouth to 
mouth. It was rumored he had arrived in the city incog- 
nito, and that he was a guest at the Kaiserhof Hotel. The 
report spread all over Mayence and formed the sensation of 
the hour. Nobody as yet appeared to have the slightest 
suspicion as to the identity of Junker. This was not aston- 
ishing, because the idea, that a young lady of the rank of a 
Cannstatt should go to the theatre with a common soldier, 
would have been deemed too preposterous. Such were — 
and for that matter are yet — the social conditions in Ger- 
many. The supposition, that the elegant, noble looking 
gentleman in evening dress might have been the same per- 
son who so heroically distinguished himself on the day of 
the last horse races was never dreamed of, because, albeit 
since then the disappearance of the Apollo of the Barracks 
was known to everybody, it was so merely by reputation 
and not by observation. 

The two young people had been actually recognized 
by three persons only. These were, Colonel Wuesthoff, 
who had every reason to know his face anywhere, and Jun- 
ker’s comrades, Frederick and Phillip. For obvious causes 
the colonel did not divulge the identity of the stranger to 
any one but his wife ; and the two soldiers, out of loyal 
friendship to the companion of their youth, thought it ad- 
visable to keep the matter to themselves, because they knew 
that Junker had committed a breach of military law in go- 
ing about in the dress of a civilian. These circumstances 
caused a great disappointment to those so fond of gossip 
and small talk; and what had promised such a rich subject 
to the scandalmongers, concentrated itself into a mystery 
that defied even the acutest penetration. 

While Frederick and Phillip were standing in the bar- 
rack yard the following morning, discussing Jenny Lind 
and the opera, the former suddenly put his mouth to his 
friend’s ear and remarked : 

“Say, Fred, did you notice Karl in the theatre last 
night?” 

“Yes, and you know I did.” 


34 


“Well, I suspected you had a reason for looking at the 
occupants of General von Cannstatts box so often, so I 
made up my mind to see for myself, after I had watched 
you for some time. What a surprise I met, when I 
recognized Karl, dressed up like a duke. Well, I shall 
nev6r forget/’ 

“That is just the way it struck me. Still, do you know, 
Phillip, I feel awfully sorry for Karl, because he is sure to 
have gotten himself into trouble over this. Just imagine 
what the colonel will say when he finds it out.” 

“Oh ! he has already done so. I watched the old 
fox leaving his box and going to the opposite side ot the 
theatre for the very purpose of getting a good view of 
them.” 

“Was he there ? Did you really see that ? Well, Vfien, 
God help poor Junker!” 

“Certainly I saw him ; but what can he do to our 
friend, except giving him ‘three days’ for dressing in civil- 
ian clothes?” 

“Why, you blockhead, are you so blind as not to see 
that the colonel feels himself highly insulted?” 

“H’m, I do not see what he should feel insulted about. 
Karl is the finest looking man in the army, a gentleman in 
manners and by education. P'or a man like him to go to 
the theatre with a countess cannot be called insulting, in my 
opinion.” 

“But is he not an aristocrat !” 

“And what has that to do with the matter?” 

“Everything in the world Any man may be good 
looking, have excellent manners and the finest of educa- 
tions, in fact, any man may even be a gentleman, but any 
man cannot be an aristocrat.” 

“Begging your pardon for differing from you, but there 
are damn few aristocrats who are gentlemen.” 

“Be that as it may, I will not even contradict that 
statement, yet all this discussion does not alter the fact that 
Colonel von Wuesthoff is not the man who will look with 
any more favor upon Junker because he went to the opera 
with his sister-in-law. You know as well as I do that our 
colonel considers himself a nobleman with the bluest of all 
blue bloods. He is not what you or I would call a noble- 
man, but one who lays claim jto that distinction because he 


35 


is a descendant of a man who went into the Crusades with 
Fredrick Barbarossa, and, finding no decent occupation 
when he returned home, went into the business of highway 
robbery, waylaid and plundered merchants and travelers on 
the highway between Frankfurt and Cologne. Of course 
you and I feel much better, because we have no ancestors at 
all, sooner than admit the fact of descent from such an one. 
But then we are common people, utterly devoid of these 
finer instincts possessed by an aristocrat. Now the colonel, 
on the contrary, is very proud of this forefather of his. He 
has his picture, “done in oil,” hanging in the place of honor 
in his library. Thus you will observe how ideas may differ, 
and I will bet my sergeant’s stripes that his idea about Karl 
going to the opera with the Countess von Cannstatt will 
find its expression based upon that finer aristocratic instinct 
of his. The result will be altogether unsatisfactory to you 
and me, and I fear very unpleasant to our friend Karl.” 

This was a very long speech for Phillip to make, and 
it took the other some time to think of a proper reply; but 
ere he could say anything the two had their attention drawn 
to a scene which ended the discussion. Two soldiers with 
shouldered arms walked across the yard, and Karl Junker, 
in his uniform, but without side-arms — evidently a prisoner 
— between them. 

“By my sergeant’s stripes,” Phillip burst out — using, as 
he always did when excited, the name of his recently ac- 
quired mark of distinction — “what did I tell you ? There 
is Karl being led into arrest this very moment.” 

•‘You are right,” replied Frederick, with a sigh, which 
showed plainly how sorry he felt for the prisoner, “it is 
Karl, and, no doubt, the colonel has already been at work 
this morning plotting a resentment for the insult inflicted 
upon him and his family. Let us go and find out what 
charge has been brought against him.” 

At the guardhouse door they met the two soldiers, 
who were returning after having delivered their prisoner. 

“Well, comrades,” Phillip addressed them, “what in the 
world has the Apollo of the Barracks done, that he should 
have been locked up so early in the morning?” 

“We do not know the cause of his arrest, sergeant. All 
we can tell is this, that the captain ordered us, about a quar- 
ter of an hour ago, when we came in off guard duty, to the 
colonel’s quarters. Arrived there, the colonel appeared to 


3 ^ 


be waiting for us, because he opened the door himself to let 
us into the house. He led the way for us into his library, 
where we found Junker. Pointing to him, the colonel or- 
dered us to take off his sabre. This command complied 
with, he said : “Now take this fellow over to the guardhouse 
and tell the officer in charge to keep him under personal 
surveillance until he hears from me further.” Then we left 
the house with Junker between us. Not having any right 
to speak to the prisoner, we did not ask him how he got 
into trouble, and he did not volunteer any information. 
That is all we know.” 

“All right, boys ; much obliged.” With these words 
Phillip dismissed the two soldiers, while he and his friend 
walked silently to their respective quarters. 

The news that Junker, the favorite of the barracks, had 
been locked up in a very mysterious manner spread through 
the regiment like wildfire, and all kinds of rumors were cir- 
culated. But if the arrest had caused excitement in the 
morning, the barracks were treated to another sensation in 
the afternoon, when the news was announced that Junker 
had all of a sudden been set at liberty. 


CHAPTER VII. 

When von Wuesthoff and his wife so precipitately left 
the theatre on the night Jenny Lind appeared in Mayence 
as Somnambula, they were both in high dudgeon. The 
anger of man and wife, however, took two distinct direc- 
tions. The colonel gave vent to his feelings by abusing 
Karl Junker up hill and down dale, while the lady laid all 
the blame for their disappointed evening at the door of her 
sister. Thus it has always been, whenever a man and a 
woman are accused of having committed a breach against 
the social proprieties, the man will nearly always be blamed 
by his sex and the woman by hers. The reason for this is 
plain. The man can form a tolerably fair judgment of his 
brother’s action by placing himself in the position of the 
accused, but he can scarcely be expected to be so well in- 
formed as to the woman. And if in such case the sexes are 
reversed, the woman’s judgment is no doubt the same. 
This leads to the very interesting question : Why should 
not woman be allowed to sit in the jury box as an arbiter 
upon her own sex for their transgressions of the law ? Even 


37 


Shakespeare proved that a woman may be a good lawyer, 
and why should she not be an equally good juror? By all 
means let us have a woman’s jury to judge of woman’s 
crime. 

“I am going to have the fellow locked up,” was the 
remark by which the colonel thought he had summed up 
the case against Karl, “the impudent, impertinent rascal.” 

“I regret my inability to agree with you, but in my 
opinion the young man is the least to blame,” quietly replied 
Lady von Wuesthoff, dissenting from her husband, some- 
thing she rarely ventured to do. 

‘‘Pray, madame, and since when were you so rich as to 
own an opinion yourself?” 

The brutality of this retort staggered the lady for a 
moment, and a heavy sigh escaped her lips. But she was 
evidently used to this kind of treatment. 

‘‘Pardon me, your judgment is undoubtedly superior to 
mine. I am merely expressing the idea of a woman upon a 
woman’s wrongs, and if you will permit me to say so, I be- 
lieve that Helene must certainly have given the young man 
some proof of her partiality toward him, or else she could 
never have consented to his becoming her escort to the 
theatre. I dare say you will condescend to the allowance 
of his good looks ?” 

This speech did much to mollify the colonel. Coming 
from anybody but a German lady and directed at her hus- 
band, it might have been considered very fine sarcasm. But 
who ever heard of such a thing as a German woman in- 
dulging in sarcasm at the expense of her husband ? 

“H’m, yes, fine figure, a fashion plate,” in a grumbling 
tone of voice answered the colonel. 

‘‘Certainly, yet that is the style of masculinity young 
girls find frequently attractive. True, the man is of low 
birth, but if you will remember that Helene’s notions upon 
this subject are shockingly radical, even so far as to regard 
a crossing sweeper equal to a duke, her infatuation may be 
easily explained. I may be wrong, of course, still I venture 
the assertion that she was the originator of to night’s 
escapade.” 

However, it was impossible for von Wuesthoff to re- 
main long in a good temper, and he soon relapsed again 
into his usual sneering tone. 

“No, madame, with all due respect to your apparent 


38 


knowledge of the aptitude for woman to deceive and intrigue, 

I cannot allow the idea that Helene — albeit she is your sister 
— could ever forget herself so far as to disgrace her family 
by considering a common soldier her equal.” 

“Your argument has the unquestionable merit of being 
applicable to the generality of highborn ladies, but my sister 
is an exceptional, aye, I might say a unique character, if 
you will, in this respect, who, if it suited her fancy, would 
dare all, no matter how any one else would be affected by 
her actions-. 

Lady von Wuesthoff maintained that prerogative so 
dearly cherished by all women, “the last word” — not because 
her husband acknowledged his defeat, but on account of 
their arrival at home, which ended the argument. 

The affair must have troubled the colonel all night, for 
the following morning he was up long before his customary 
hour. The first thing he did was to send for Junker, who 
not long after appeared before his superior officer, his mind 
filled with misgivings as to the outcome of the coming 
interview. By way of saying good morning, the colonel 
received him with a volley of invectives, and oaths, such as 
can only be found in the most extensive vocabulary of an 
officer in the German army. But Karl knew him well, and 
he listened to the stormy outbursts of passion calmly and 
unaffectedly, like a sturdy oak would stand against the 
blowing of the wind. At last the colonel regained command 
over himself, and began plying the young man with ques- 
tions. He addressed him in the customary manner of all 
German aristocrats and superior army officers, when speak- 
ing to a person considered of low degree. In other words, 
he addressed him in the third person singular, a mannerism 
introduced into Germany by Frederic the Great, and which 
has since been rigidly followed and affected by the nobility. 

“Where was ‘he’ last night ? 

“At your service, colonel, I was on leave of absence.” 

“I know that, but where did ‘he’ go ?” 

“To the opera !” 

“With whom ?” 

“The Countess von Cannstatt.” 

“And was ‘he’ aware of the relationship existing be- 
tween this lady and myself?” 

“I was fully aware of the fact that you are the lady’s 
brother-in-law.” 


39 


“And yet ‘he' went ?” 

“I did, colonel.” 

“Without deeming it necessary to ask my permission ?” 

“I asked the lady, and she graciously accorded me the 
honor to be her escort.” 

“Well, by all the guns in the artillery, but ‘he’ is the 
most impertinent dog of a soldier I have ever had the mis- 
fortune to come across. Did ‘he’ for a moment suppose 
that I would countenance such a thing? Poor devil that 
‘he’ is, a mere private, without name or fortune, ‘he’ dares to 
presume so far as to wheedle himself into the good graces 
of a member of my family. It is the most preposterous piece 
of arrogance that has ever come to my notice, and an act of 
insubordination, the punishment of which will afford me the 
most profound delight. I suppose ‘lie’ has even gone so 
far as to make love to the lady ?” 

Junker stood there like a statue and, did not reply to 
this remark, though it was noticeable, by the color on his 
cheek, that he had recognized the intended insult. 

“Donnerwetter, is ‘he’ not going to answer me?” 

“No, colonel, I decline to answer that last question of 
yours.” 

If a bomb had exploded at von Wuesthoff’s feet, he 
would not have been so much surprised, as he was taken 
aback at this reply of the young soldier. The man had pos- 
itively refused to submit to any catechism by his superior 
officer. It was unheard of. A terrible rage took possession 
of him, and he would like to have strangled the young fel- 
low on the spot, but a glance at the imperturbable figure 
before him caused him to hesitate. 

“Ha, Canaille, what was that ‘he’ said?” 

“Pardon me, colonel, I am only a private soldier, and 
while willing to be your submissive and obedient servant in 
accordance with the laws and rules of the army, you cannot 
expect me to be entirely devoid of self-respect. This affair 
is to me far more serious than life or death, hence you can 
not wonder at my refusal to discuss this subject with you in 
a flippant, contemptuous manner.” 

The colonel’s face grew ashen. “Does ‘he’ know that 
I could have ‘him’ shot, if I wanted to?” 

“I know that as my colonel you have a great deal of 
authority, and you take full advantage thereof, but you can 
not have a man shot without bringing substantial charges 


40 


against him. Thank heaven, this country has at least a few 
distinctive features superior to barbarism.” 

“Have a care. Does ‘he’ forget that I am ‘his’ colonel ?” 

“No, I do not ; but I can assure you I would be deeply 
grateful to you, if you would, during this discussion, lay 
aside the mantle of your official position, in order that we 
might speak to one another, man to man.” 

“That can never be ! It is my official capacity which 
compels me to speak at all to such as ‘he’ is. Otherwise I 
cannot conceive of any possible condition where a German 
nobleman would lower himself to such an extent as to enter 
into any discussion with a peasant.” 

Junker grew red in the face with suppressed indigna- 
tion, then he replied in slowly measured tones : 

“And yet, colonel, I recall a recent experience with a 
nobleman, where I had to stoop right down to the ground 
to get to his level, and even then he was lower than a 
peasant.” 

This allusion to the night when the young soldier found 
von Wuesthoff drunk in the street was perhaps not a wise 
one for Karl to make, but who is the man that could have 
listened to the stings of such shameless arrogance without 
being provoked to resentment ? The effect Junker’s remark 
had upon the officer can be easily imagined. His counte- 
nance became livid with rage and his eyes bloodshot with 
passion. For a moment he was rendered speechless with 
excitement, but though he said nothing, his looks bore evi- 
dent indication that he entertained thoughts and designs 
in his brain which bode nothing but evil for the young pri- 
vate. Junker seemed to gain an instinctive conviction, that 
from henceforth he and the colonel would be deadly ene- 
mies ; but, with the impetuosity of his age, he felt at that 
instant strong enough to dare the enmity of half a dozen 
colonels. Alas, he did not know the diabolical, revengeful 
nature of this one, or he would have shuddered at the pos- 
sibility of contending against more. At last von Wuesthoff 
appeared to have regained control over his faculties. 

“I will kill ‘him’ for that insult, even if I have to wait 
until my dying day to do it !” — he hissed through his teeth ; 
then he went out of the room to return in a Yew minutes 
with the two soldiers, who led Junker into arrest. 


41 


CHAPTER VIII. 

The German Aristocracy is the pettiest.: in all Europe, 
and anything, but the flower of the German nation. In the 
world’s greatest achievements of war, science, art or litera- 
ture Germany has ever held the front rank, but Bluecher, 
Kopernicus, Duerer, Mozart, Schiller, Goethe and hundreds 
of others, equally renowned, where all men, who rose from 
the people. The perfection of morals and the superiority 
of intellect is not found among the nobility, and the key- 
note for this fact is directly traceable to that custom, so 
strongly adhered to by the German Aristocrats, the mar- 
riage de convenance. All marriages are arranged there 
without in the least consulting the opinions or inclinations 
of the two persons most directly interested. It is as a rule, 
the consummation of a deal between two families, in which 
the ceremony forms the signing and sealing of the contract. 
Usually these marriages are already arranged, while the 
bride and groom are yet in their teens, even infants have 
frequently been betrothed. Love and happiness never enter 
into the agreement, and mutual affection is not looked upon 
as the sine qua non for wedded bliss. What the result of 
such marriages must be does not require much speculation. 
Where husband and wife are indifferent to one another, 
their children will as a matter of course, be devoid of those 
finer instincts, loftier sentiments and characteristics, which 
make humanity the reflection of God. The highest endow- 
ments of human nature are of necessity the fruits of human 
love, but never the visible outgrowth resulting from the sat- 
isfaction obtained by the indulgence of carnal desires. 

Helene von Cannstatt by allowing herself to fall in love 
with a man, had committed a very serious wrong for a girl 
of her station, but she also intended to marry the man of 
her choice, and this was worse, because she thereby as- 
sumed the prerogative of others and overstepped all bounds 
of aristocratic propriety. Peculiar as it may sound to us, 
others had the right to form affections for her, and select 
for her the man who was to be her husband, and with whom 
she must live the rest of her life. However, the gravity of 
her case was increased a thousand fold, because she had se- 
lected as the choice of her heart a man from the people, a 
plebeian. 

These were the thoughts, which engaged her mind on 


42 


the night when Helene came home from the theatre, and 
while her heart was filled to overflowing with joy, because 
she knew that Junker loved her, she was yet fearful with 
anxiety as to the future. She thought of the effect it would 
produce among her aristrocatic friends, when the news got 
abroad, that she had gone to the opera with a common 
soldier, and that she intended to marry him. She mentally 
drew a picture of the startled looks on their faces, and in 
her fancy she could hear their expressions of horror, cen- 
sure and general condemnation. She thought of her sister, 
cold, haughty and narrow-minded. Oblivious to the least 
sparkle of sentiment. Leading a life, whose paths all lay 
directly upon those lines prescribed by the etiquette of aris- 
tocratic customs. She thought of uncles, aunts and cousins 
without the least hope of obtaining a word of encouragement 
or approbation from any one of them. Still all this did not 
trouble or cause her to regret what she had done. Since 
she proposed to love after her own heart and meant to find 
happiness of her own making, she could not blame others 
for refusing to fall in with her views, when they had not 
been consulted, especially as her views were in their opin- 
ion extraordinary, and in direct opposition to aristrocratic 
law. 

At last she thought of her father and her face cleared. 
Of course it could not be expected, that he would sanction 
her choice unhesitatingly. The traditional custom of his 
race would not allow him to go that far; but judging him 
as she thought she knew him, she believed that by dint of 
filial persuasion, the conviction would very soon come to 
him, that it would be better to see his child happy, than 
force her into unhappiness. 

Thus she reassured herself, and at last went to sleep 
with the inflexible resolution on her mind to either marry 
the man she loved or else not marry at all. 

The following morning she made her usual visit to her 
sister. The Lady Wuesthoff was at home alone, her hus- 
band. the colonel, having gone to the barracks. Helene 
had been in the room less than five minutes, when from the 
manner of her sister, it appeared evident that she was exer- 
cised about something. The young lady at once suspected 
the cause of Lady Wuesthoff ’s preoccupation of mind and 
determined to broach the subject immediately, before the 
rumors circulated among the gossippers could be related 
to her. 


43 


“Some one must have recognized us at the theatre and 
Hortense has already been informed,” she said to herself. 

“Hortense,” she then addressed her sister, ‘‘I was at 
the Opera House last evening with” — 

Fraulein von Cannstatt did not get any farther. The 
elder lady held up her hands, as if to ward off some horri- 
ble spectre. “Helene,” she burst out, “for mercy’s sake do 
not mention the man’s name in conjunction with yours. I 
know all, we were in the theatre ourselves, and I was posi- 
tively shocked.” 

“Really, one would think you had discovered me com- 
mitting a crime !” 

“If you had, you could not have brought any more 
disgrace upon yourself, or upon your friends. Ah, Helene, 
how could you so forget your dignity ?” 

“I am not aware that my conduct was so amenable to 
censure, as you chose to find it.” 

“Are you then so completely lost to all sense of pro- 
priety as to ignore the fact, that it can scarcely be called be- 
coming in a young lady of your rank and position, to go to 
the theatre accompanied by a common soldier, a plebeian ?” 

“But he did not look common ?” 

“No!” 

“And I am sure there was nothing in his manner, even 
you, might have taken umbrage at.” 

“No, I must say, the young man behaved himself very 
well.” 

“Then pray how did I disgrace myself?” 

“It cannot be, Helene, that you are so woefully ignor- 
ant as not to know what I mean. Why the man’s name, 
his birth, his position precludes him from your society, and 
by giving th$ world cause to link your name with his in 
any manner, you have scandalized your noble rank and dis- 
graced us among our friends.” 

“Those are the exaggerated notions of an effete aris- 
tocracy, which I would detest to entertain. By your own 
admission, he was no different in looks and demeanor from 
any gentleman ; still, because he is a common soldier, whose 
ancestors were honest, hardworking farmers, instead of aris- 
tocratic idlers, he is to be tabooed. Had you seen me at 
the opera with Herr von Ramhagen, the profligate, spend- 
thrift and gambler, who is notorious on account of his 
ugliness as well as his vices, I should have deserved your 


44 


accusations. To me it seems impossible for the mere acci- 
dent of birth to have any effect upon the character of a 
person’s whole life. Does it follow, because a man is gentle, 
refined, learned, polite and intellectual, that his children will 
be the same ? Neither can anyone be considered noble 
because he is the scion of a noble family. King Oscar of 
Sweden is a descendent of General Bernadotte, who, I have 
read, was a shoemaker’s son in France, and yet they say 
he is one of the noblest characters in all Europe. Did you 
ever read the inscription on Papa’s coat of arms and ponder 
over its meaning ? — No, I dare say not. It says : ‘All 
men are equal ! — Ah, you startle, Hortense, you are sur- 
prised. Nevertheless it is true. This being the motto of 
our family it seems to me our bounden duty to carry out 
its meaning.” 

“But it is such an unheard of thing for a lady of rank 
to associate with common people. If this man had only 
some distinction.” 

“He has, he is a gentleman!” 

“I mean a title of nobility.” 

“And I like him the better for being without that, be- 
cause it seems customary for the man with a noble title to 
lack every other attribute of nobility. 

“Good heavens, what language ! Helene, I cannot al- 
low you to express yourself in that manner in my presence ; 
you perfectly horrify me. Do you not take any pride in 
your noble birth ?” 

“No, not the least. Morally speaking, I do not think 
I am any the better on account of my birth or my name. — 
But there, my dear Hortense, let us cease discussing a sub- 
ject on which our opinions so widely differ, I was aware, 
when I went to the opera last night with Karl Junker, it 
would be considered an act which you would condemn. 
Still I went, and I came here this morning with the avowed 
intention of telling you all about it. Dear Hortense, you 
are my only sister, and while I am thoroughly familiar with 
the orthodoxy and conservatism of your views on this mat- 
ter, I nevertheless hope to convince you that I am deserving 
of your sympathy. Try to forget for the time being that 
the fetters of aristocracy enchain you, and let me appeal to 
your woman’s heart. I love this Karl Junker with my 
whole soul. My heart has gone out to him like a flood of 
light, which nothing can ever obscure. Stop ! do not inter- 


45 


nipt me. I know all you want to say. I have studied and 
weighed the matter well. 1 am not the victim of a girlish 
fancy, nor am I the dupe of hypnotism. I love him with 
the whole of my concentrated passion. I know he is not 
my equal, in the opinion of the world. With me, however, 
love levels all human beings. If a heart is inspired with that 
love which can only be instilled by heaven, it never inquires 
about the antecedents, the family, or the friends of the one 
loved. I am aware that such love is out of fashion, and 
it is not found among us, who call ourselves the nobility, 
the higher class of human society. But the greater the pity. 
Believe me, love is divine, and it cannot be directed accord- 
ing to human will or dictation. To me, human love seems 
like the same chord of music produced on two different in- 
struments ; and if such love can only be found among the 
common people, I will gladly renounce the rank of my birth, 
and title.” 

Lady von Wuesthoff stood aghast with astonishment. 
Such sentimentality, as she termed Helene’s notion of love, 
was altogether foreign to her nature. 

“What will father say to all this ?” she at last replied. 

“Dear father, do you suppose that I have not thought 
of him ? I have no fear as to what he will say. I believe 
he is fond enough of me not to oppose my wishes when he 
knows that my happiness, my life depends upon it. How- 
ever, I want your approbation as well. Come, Hortense, 
you are the only sister I have, and while you may have 
thought that I displeased you, yet you know I did not do 
it wantonly.” 

Lady von Wuesthoff was about to make some remark 
in answer to* her sister’s pleading, when the door opened and 
the colonel entered. His appearance of course occasioned 
a cessaation of the entire subject. 

He listened to his sister-in law’s arguments without 
replying, but it was evident, by the look of his contracted 
brows, he was not favorably impressed with what he heard. 
When the lady at last announced to him she loved the hand- 
some soldier, the colonel rose from his seat raging with 
fury. 

“Ha, the scoundrel ! It is just what I supposed,” he an- 
swered, “the fellow has bewitched you, but I will take him 
in hand and reckon with him as he deserves.” 

He paid not the least attention to Helene when she 


46 


asserted that Junker was not to blame. Indeed, the idea of 
a young lady of the aristocracy desiring to exercise her own 
right in disposing of her love was too novel for the colonel. 
He, in common with all men of his class, entertained the 
same opinion of the absolute passiveness of women in such 
matters. Hence he did not find fault with Helene at all. 
His mind was fully made up, that she had been beguiled by 
the handsome appearance of Junker, and the latter had suc- 
ceeded in ensnaring her, perhaps, by some occult means or 
other. So he remarked : 

“Well, I am glad I had him locked up this morning, 
and under arrest he shall remain until he promises never to 
look at you again ! — No, do not interrupt me, Helene ; you 
do not know how to deal with these low, underbred people, 
but I do. In the meantime I would advise you to make a 
visit to your aunt in Saxony, stay there for a few months, 
and when you come back you will have forgotten all about 
this fellow. Such a miserable wretch, he is not worth 
wasting any sleep over, and — now I come to think of it, his 
time will be up in June, so if you stay away until then, he 
will have left the army. Good heavens ! child, what in this 
world are you crying about ?” 

And well he might ask, for how could this clay -brained 
aristocrat, who could not comprehend the feelings of his 
soldiers, enter into an appreciation of the sublime passion of 
love such as this girl entertained for Karl Junker? She 
stood before him holding her hands to her ears, perfectly 
horrified at the brutal callousness of this human clod, who 
proposed to settle the happiness of her life in such a cold- 
blooded, offhand manner. 

“For mercy's sake, Wuesthoff,” she cried, when he did 
stop at last, “you make me shudder. Have you no heart 
at all ? Do you suppose love such as mine is like a candle, 
that can be blown out and lit again at will ? However, you 
do not seem to comprehend.” 

She broke off and again gave way to crying. Suddenly 
she ceased and, looking through tearful eyes at her brother- 
in law, she demanded : 

“Is it really true that Karl is under arrest, or did you 
only say that to frighten me ?” 

“Yes, he is in the guard house, and there he will stay 
until his senses return to him. Pah, Helene, do not give 
way to such sentimentality. I will save you from this dis- 
grace ; you leave it to me.” 


41 


I 


“But I do not want to be saved ; what I want is to have 
you give immediate orders for Karl’s liberation.” 

“Never !” 

“Not if I make it an inducement ?” 

“Pray do not insult me; what inducement could you 
offer me to do such a thing ?” 

“Oh, I do not mean to bribe you with money; that is 
only done with ordinay jailers. You told me, just now, that 
it was fortunate nobody had recognized Karl in the theatre, 
in fact, he is generally supposed to have been the Prince X.” 

“That is true. I do not believe there was anybody in 
the theatre aware of the fellow’s identity but myself, and I 
took great care not to divulge it.” 

“And what was your object in maintaining this se- 
crecy ?” 

“I would sooner lose my colonel’s commission than to 
have the fact become known among the officers and our 
acquaintances that you had been at the opera with a private 
from my regiment.” 

“That being the case you would not like me to tell the 
Baroness von Hallstatt, for instance, or your friend Colonel 
von Kammergau, of the Uhlanen, who this pseudo prince 
really was ?” 

“Good heavens, no ! Why, do you know what would 
happen ?” 

“Indeed I cannot imagine.” 

“'The effect would be that the whole city and the entire 
garrison would hear of it in a day,. The people would point 
their fingers at you and at us, while society would ostracise 
us.” 

“Which no doubt you would consider a greater calam- 
ity than sacrificing the happiness of your wife’s sister,” re- 
plied Helene sarcastically. “Now, I feel differently on this 
subject. I love this man and I am not ashamed to say so 
to anybody. However, I will consider your feelings of 
brotherly affection, and keep the matter secret on condition 
that you at once sit down and write out the order for the 
unfortunate young man’s release from prison.” 

The colonel was astonished. He had not expected 
this, and he bit his lips with anger. What could he do ? 
He knew that Helene would keep her word, and he trem- 
bled when he thought of the scandal this affair would cause. 
Perhaps he might have to resign his commission. Sud- 


48 


denly, what to his idea seemed a clever thought entered his 
his mind. Why not acquiesce in the girl’s demand, and 
thereby cause her to think he really approved of her mad 
infatuation ? Then, when his time came to settle scores with 
that infamous young lover. Helene’s suspicion towards him 
would at once be disarmed. He sat down, wrote the order, 
called for a servant and sent him to the guard house with 
it. The result we know. 

“Since you take the matter so much to heart, and 
sooner than see you unhappy, I have done as you wish, my 
lady,” he said to Helene. Then he hurriedly left the apart- 
ment, and the two ladies sat there for a long time wonder- 
ing at his unexpected readiness to accept Fraulein von 
Cannstatt’s proposition. It was so totally unlike him. 


CHAPTER IX. 

Helene went home much better pleased with her inter- 
view, than she had dared to hope, and although she felt in- 
stinctively suspicious of the ready acquiescence on the part 
of the colonel, her heart was much lighter, because she had 
succeeded in saving Karl from remaining under arrest. 
She considered this in itself a great concession for Wuest- 
hoff to make, even though she could not have much faith 
in his seeming approval of her love for the young soldier. 

“I will now inform my dear papa,” she resolved as she 
walked up the gravel path leading to her home. “What 
will he say I wonder?” However, he has often averred, 
that he does not consider inherited distinction ever had the 
effect of making a man better, than some one less fortunate 
in that respect. I also remember him saying once during 
an argument with Colonel Wuesthoff, that every day as 
good men are born in hovels as in palaces. I shall now 
have to put him to the test and find out, whether he is wil- 
ling to put his theories into practice, and if so the cup of 
my happiness will be filled to overflowing ; I shall ask for 
nothing more !” And if he is not pleased ? was the next 
thought mockingly suggesting itself, but she had arrived at 
the door, which was opened by Johann, and her attention 
being called to something else, she dismissed the matter. 

When Junker returned from the guardhouse to the 
barracks everyone was curious to know all about the cause 
of his incarceration, short though it had been. The ques- 


49 


tions asked him were many, but he gave little or no satis- 
faction to any of them. His two friends, Frederick and 
Phillip, however, succeeded in making him talk. 

“Phil and I were at the opera last night,” said Freder- 
ick, looking at Karl with a knowing twinkle in his eyes. 

Junker was astonished for a moment, then replied : 

“I hope you enjoyed the performance !” 

“That we did, but you didn’t.” 

“How do you know I was there ?” 

“Didn’t we see you ? Come now, Karl, you don’t 
suppose, that a swallow-tail coat, a white shirt front and 
the surroundings of a private box are a disguise which we 
could not penetrate. There now don’t frown at us, Phil 
and I are not going to talk about this affair, are we Phil, 
eh?” 

The latter nodded affirmatively. 

“Thank you boys,” remarked Junker, grasping their 
hands, “I shall appreciate your silence as a favor. You 
understand, there are circumstances connected with my 
visit to the theatre last night, which I do not care to have 
made the subject of barrack gossip. Of course I never 
have had a secret from you, and I would tell you all about 
this, only it concerns another and I cannot speak, forgive 
me, will you?” 

“That’s all right, we know what you mean, do not say 
another word.” 

Junker gradually became more thoroughly aware of 
his position towards the Lady von Cannstatt, and as he 
calmly considered the event of the previous evening, his 
face grew flushed with delight. Then he decided to go and 
have an interview with the general. His mind made up to 
this effect, he crossed the barrack yard to the captain’s 
quarters, for the purpose of asking that officers permission 
for leave of absence. 

“I am sorry, but I cannot allow you to leave the bar- 
racks,” the captain replied when Karl made this request. 

“May I ask, whether there is any special reason for 
this refusal ?” 

“I suppose there is, and I should have imagined you 
would know all about it. You must be aware, that I ever 
treated you with the greatest favor, but in this case I have 
orders from the colonel not to let you pass through the 
gates without a written order from him.” 


50 


Junker understood at once. 

“How long is that order to remain in force ?” 

“Until you leave the ranks. I looked up your record 
to-day, and I find unless you wish to make the military 
your calling, that will be exactly twenty nine days from 
now. I regret to have to impose this confinement upon 
you, I say so again, because you have been a good soldier 
in fact, you are the pride of my company, and had it not 
been for your inexplicable stubbornness, you would have 
been promoted from the ranks long ago.” 

“I thank you for your expressions of kindness, captain, 
though I do not deserve them. I have simply endeavored 
to do my duty towards my fatherland, which demands from 
every one ot her able-bodied sons service in the army. Per- 
sonally I hate it, I detest militarism, and the cause, which 
demands its establishment and maintenance. It is for that 
reason, I would never seek, or desire any promotion. No 
doubt these opinions will almost sound like treason to you, 
and I really ought not to promulgate them before you.” 

“That is all right, Junker, you need not apologize, I 
believe every man has a right to his opinion.” 

“Thank you. It is my conviction the world should 
inaugurate an age of universal peace. All nations should 
come together in a congress and there through their rep- 
resentatives, establish a code by which their relations to 
each other might be regulated. Then, if at any time any 
difference should arise a court of arbitration could decide 
the case.” 

“That is all very beautiful in theory, but in practice it 
would never work.” 

“I know it will not work now, but I feel sure the time 
will come, though we may not see it, when the world will 
enter this stage of the millenium, the era of universal 
peace.” 

Junker departed from his captain feeling great bitter- 
ness towards Colonel Wuesthoff. Still he accepted his 
fate philosophically, and he sat down to write Helene a let- 
ter, in which he apprised her of his inability to come and 
see her. He made a strong point of the tact, that his time 
in the army would be very soon ended. “From the day I 
leave the ranks, it shall be the pleasantest task of my life to 
serve you and you alone,” he wrote. 

When Helene received this letter, she recognized, that 


5 * 


she had not wronged her brother-in law by her suspicions. 
However, she gathered consolation from the thought, that 
her lover would very soon be free from this yoke, and that 
she then would have him all to herself. But even, if they 
could not meet and talk to each other, they held constant 
communication by letter, Johann, Frederick and Phillip 
acting as the “postilions d’amour.” 

One morning, it was on the third day after the events 
just related, Junker’s two friends came to him and informed 
him, that they had a great surprise in store for him. This 
communication was made in a manner, much like that of 
elder brothers, who were about to present their younger 
one with his favorite toy. 

“It must be something good, I can read that much in 
your faces.” 

“Guess what it is then,” remarked Phillip. 

“He couldn’t, even if he tried a whole year,” said 
Frederick. 

“You are right, my dear fellow, I never was good at 
guessing anyway, and to think of a pleasant surprise just 
now, is more than my brain could stand, so out with it, 
boys, and do not keep me any longer in suspense.” 

“We have a plan to give you an opportunity to run 
into town to-night for a couple of hours.” 

“What ? — it is impossible !” 

“There you are Phillip, I knew he would not believe 
us, if you were to broach the subject that way, why don’t 
you go ahead and explain, or better still, let me do it,” and 
suiting his action to the words, Frederick commenced : 

“The fact is we have heard that orders have been given 
to prevent you from leaving the barracks, so Phillip and I 
knowing how hard such a confinement would be upon us, 
have been scheming to give you a chance to get off, and 
we have got it.” 

“Yes, that we have !” broke in Phillip. 

“Now please do not interrupt me or I shall not be able 
to continue. Well this is the plan : To-night I am on 
guard duty at the barrack gate from eight until ten o’clock, 
and if you will go through between these hours I swear I 
won’t know you.” 

The prospect of getting out and going to the Cannstatt 
mansion was very tempting to Karl, and he thought over 
it for a moment. Then he replied : 


52 


“But will my absence not be noticed inside ?” 

“No, it will not, that is also provided for.” 

“Yes, and as that is where I come in, please let me 
tell that part myself,” and Phillip took up the thread of 
conversation. I have obtained leave of absence for this 
evening, but I do not mean to take it, because I want you 
to go instead of me.” 

“But how can I ?” 

“Easy enough. In the early part of the evening you 
complain of not feeling well, so that all the boys in our 
mess hear it. Then as soon as it gets dark I shall slip into 
your bed. That will be- the signal for you to quietly de- 
part. Why it is easy enough. Once you are outside no 
one will bother you. Only manage to get back before ten, 
because that is the time when Frederick goes off duty.” 

“It is a good scheme,” Junker admitted, “still, suppos- 
ing it should fail, we will all be very severely punished.” 

“It will not, it must not fail,” both replied in one 
breath. 

“I am not quite so sanguine about that. It might fail. 
No boys, I appreciate your kind intention and thoughtful- 
ness for me, but I have no right to allow you to endanger 
your liberty on my account.” 

“The devil you havn’t ? Are we not friends ? Have 
we not been friends, since the time we began to walk, or 
were able to talk, and would you not do the same for us. 
Do not be so squeamish.” 

“Yes, but this is a peculiar case. The colonel has 
made up his mind, that I shall not get outside the barrack 
gate, and if it were found out, I had gone, his wrath would 
know no bounds. You are aware how he dislikes being 
foiled in anything. I would not object so much, it he would 
only vent his ill-temper on me, but I would hate to see you 
treated that way.” 

“Look here, Karl, we have made up our minds to 
carry this scheme through, and you will have to submit. 
W e insist upon it as a favor to us. We know, that there 
is bad feeling existing between you and the colonel at 
present, and we want to be in the quarrel too. Your trouble 
has always been ours, as ours has been yours, and why not 
this one ? Have we not always been true to you ? Have 
you ever had reason for finding fault with us as far as our 
friendship has been concerned ; if that is so, very well, we 


53 


deserve to be ignored, and we are no longer worthy of your 
confidence.” 

It was big good-hearted Phillip, who spoke thus, and 
while the words came from his lips in a choking tone of 
voice, his large blue eyes were filled with tears. 

“No, no, it is not that my friends. You know that. 
There were never truer hearts nor more devoted minds than 
yours, never readier hands nor quicker brains at the ser- 
vice of a friend, but this is an affair, which concerns me 
alone, it is a battle which I must fight single handed, and 
whatever the consequences, I cannot share them with any- 
body, not even with you. But believe me, I do not reject 
your assistance, because I have no faith in your willingness 
to help me, or because I have no confidence in you. Far 
from it, my opinion of you, and my feelings toward you 
can never change.” 

“Excuse my blunt way of speaking,” said Phil, “but 
by my sargeant’s stripes, if I had a sweetheart in Mayence; 
and I had not seen her for three days, I think I would not 
be quite so particular as you are, I would go to her, if the 
heavens fell/’ 

“I am quite sure you would,” answered Karl with a 
smile, “and you would find me ready enough to dare any- 
thing were the circumstances different. Even now the 
temptation is very great, and it is quite an effort for me to 
resist, but I must. Our time is nearly up, and we cannot 
be too careful of our conduct. I know the colonel is keep- 
ing watch over me constantly, and ready to let me feel the 
whip of his authority at the least provocation. For that 
reason alone I am almost positive the scheme would mis- 
carry. Then if it were discovered that you were implicated 
in the affair, the punishment would fall upon you, with the 
certain result that instead of going home within a month, 
all of us would be in prison. One thing more, there is 
another person I must think of, who would be affected by 
the discovery of our plan, and it is mainly on her account 
that I beg you to abandon it. Now do you understand?” 

The two looked at each other. Neither of them spoke. 
Each seemed to be waiting for the other to speak. At last 
Frederick remarked : 

“You are right, Karl, it was stupid of us not to think 
of that ; but we meant well. We were so anxious to do 
you a kindness, that we never took into consideration the 


54 


possible results of a failure. However, you must forgive 
us.” 

CHAPTER X. 

It was written in the book of fate, which contained the 
record of Junker’s life, that after all, on this particular day, 
he would pass through the barrack gate. Soon after the 
conversation between the three friends had ceased, a mes- 
senger came ordering Karl at once to appear at the colonel’s 
quarters. He went of course to obey the summons, and 
while walking along he wondered as to what might be 
wanted of him. So many unexpected surprises had hap- 
pened to him lately, however, that he failed to arrive at a 
plausable explanation, although he seemed to feel, that in 
the colonel’s house nothing pleasant was awaiting him. 

The cause, however, was this : 

Helene and General von Cannstatt, her father, were 
sitting in the latter’s library, the young lady had been read- 
ing a book, which was now lying on the table beside her. 
Whether it was the contents of the book, or something 
else of which she was thinking, it was evident from the far 
away look in her eyes, that her mind was deeply engrossed. 
Occasionally she would gaze across towards her father and 
scan his features very closely. But the imperturbable pas- 
siveness of the old gentleman’s face seemed to afford little 
satisfaction to her scrutiny, and she became restless. For 
a long time she rocked backward and forward in her chair, 
until at last she rose from her seat, and walking to where 
the general was comfortably reclining on a couch, she knelt 
at his feet before him. Again she looked at him inquiringly. 

“Well, my dear child, what is the matter, you look at 
me, as if trying to find an interpretation of your own 
thoughts on my countenance ?” 

“You are right, papa, but I have not met with any 
success.” 

“And what is it you want to know ?” 

“I have just been reading che^story of Amalie, the sis- 
ter of Frederick the Great, and I have been wondering, 
whether you, if you had been her brother, would have pre- 
vented her marrying Frederick von der Trenk.” 

“What an odd girl you are, and is that what you have 
been puzzling over, is that the reason you were making me 
the target of your penetrating stare for the last ten minutes ?” 


55 


“Yes, papa. The story has considerable interest for 
me. In my opinion the king was very cruel to his sister, 
because a man endowed with the advantageous character- 
istics, which Trenk possessed, was certainly well worthy of 
the love of a princess, therefore the king ought to have 
allowed them to marry.” 

“I hardly know whether I can agree with you,!’ the 
general replied cautiously. 

“Why ?” 

“Because I am not a king, and I have not had a sister, 
who married outside of her rank.” 

“Then supposing you were a king and you had a sister, 
whom you professed to love dearly, would you, if it were 
in your power, sacrifice her life, her happiness, simply be- 
cause she happened to love a man below her in rank ?” 

The general did not answer. Something in his daugh- 
ter’s manner, her earnestness, the look of anxiety depicted 
on her countenance, while talking to him, and her apparent 
excitement made him stop and wonder at the purport of 
all this questioning. 

“What is the matter with you child ?” he asked her 
instead of replying. “Are you not well ? your face is 
flushed, your manner is peculiar, what is it that is wrong 
with you ?” 

“Oh, nothing, nothing, papa, only answer me ; what 
would you do, if you had a daugh — a sister, who intended 
to marry some one you considered beneath her ?” 

The general again hesitated. He seemed to have an 
intuitive sense, that Helene had an ulterior motive in ques- 
tioning him so closely and persistently upon this subject, 
though he could not imagine what her reason might be. 
While pondering upon this point, and thinking as to how 
he ought to reply, he looked at her again, and again noticed 
on her face that expression of eager anxiety. Her eyes 
were hanging on his lips, as it were, and before he had made 
up his mind what to say, she continued : 

“In my opinion, the king behaved very heartlessly toward 
his sister. To me it seems, when two people love one an- 
other, they become virtually one being. Rank and birth 
cannot have the slightest effect either to encourage or dis- 
courage true love. Supposing a prince were to find himself 
on an island, which was inhabited by only one woman, with 
whom he after a while fell in love. Suddenly he discovers, 


56 


that she was born a child of the people, the daughter of a 
peasant. Must he then cease loving her ?” 

Most decidedly ! A prince has no business loving a 
common girl, he is allowed to love and marry a princess 
only.” 

“Then you believe that one may cease loving, if an al- 
teration of circumstances were to demand it ?” 

“I do, most emphatically!” 

“Ah,” Helene replied, sighing as if her heart were 
breaking, “then you cannot know what real love is. Don’t 
you remember what Shakespeare said ? — 

“ ‘ Love is not love, that alters 
When it alteration finds/ ” 

“Pah, Helene, that kind of love never existed, it is 
merely the product of poetic imagination.” 

“Do not say that, papa, I pray, I implore you ; there 
can be but one kind of love.” 

“Oh no, child, there are a great many. The one you 
speak of is generally found in novels, but in reality never!” 

“I cannot make up my mind to believe that, papa ; how- 
ever, to return to our first argument, what should the Prin- 
cess Amalie have done, then, when she realized that she 
loved Trenk ? 

“She ought to have done, then and there, what her 
brother later compelled her to do : give him up ! Why, my 
child, people of noble birth have no right to marry beneath 
them. They owe a duty to their name, their family, their 
ancestors, which is paramount to all others.” 

“Then you believe that name, birth, forefathers, rank 
and station are facts to be considered before one permits 
one’s self to love ?” 

“Yes, — yes, dear Helene, I see you are beginning to 
comprehend now.” 

“Then, if you had been in the place of Frederick the 
Great, you would have done what he did ?” 

“Yes, now I come to think of it, I would have done so, 
most undoubtedly.” 

“But, not being a king, how would you have punished 
your own sister, as you could not have placed her in prison ?” 

“Ha! I would have disowned her.” 

“This reply seemed to penetrate the young lady’s en 
tire frame. She shook and trembled like a person taking 


57 


hold of the two poles of a powerful electric battery. She 
was speechless ; at last tears came into her eyes, and she 
sobbed bitterly. The old man looked alarmed with wonder. 

“Why, Helene, my darling child, what is the matter 
with you, why should this affect you so strongly? You 
must be sick. Had you not better go to your room and let 
me send for the physician ?” 

But his voice seemed to act as a restorative to her 
power of speech. She gradually grew calmer, but when she 
spoke it was still with a great effort. 

“And if I, your daughter, loved a man whom you would 
consider — beneath me — in birth and rank — what would you 
do ?” 

“Why, child, I cannot imagine such a thing ; you would 
not do it. Pah ! a von Cannstatt, my own daughter; it is 
too ridiculous.” 

“Yes, but papa, supposing it were so, tell me, do not 
evade me,” 

“Some other time, when you are stronger, we will dis- 
cuss this matter again. You are not well to-day, and the 
least thing seems to affect your nerves.” 

“No, papa, I am not sick, there is nothing ailing me, 
but I am so much interested in this question that I should 
like to know your opinion; please tell me, will you not?” 

“Very well, then, since you insist upon it I will cheer- 
fully accommodate you, and satisfy your whim, although I 
cannot see why you should act so strangely, suppose such 
an impossibility. If a daughter of mine were to fall in love 
with a man below her rank and birth, I would certainly dis- 
own her, too.” 

No sooner had the general uttered these words than he 
would have been very glad had he left them unsaid, because 
they had the effect of causing Helene to fall at his feet in a 
deep faint. Old and feeble as he was, this unexpected oc- 
currence lent him fresh activity. He jumped from his seat 
and pulled the bell for the servants with all his might. Half 
a dozen of them answered at once, no doubt attracted by 
the unusual vehemence with which he had rung the bell. 
He dispatched one to the doctor, while he ordered the oth- 
ers to carry Helene, who was still in a faint, to her apart- 
ments. 

“The girl must have fallen in love with some one her- 
self,” he soliloquized when he was alone. “I must immedi- 


5 8 


ately set about finding that out. Ha ! I know ; I shall go 
to her sister ; no doubt she will be able to throw some light 
on this affair.” 

Before Herr von Cannstatt left the house, the family 
physician arrived, and as Helene in the meantime had re- 
gained consciousness, the general went out, giving his 
daughter in charge of the doctor and servants. 

CHAPTER XI. 

Not many minutes after the general had arrived at the 
colonel’s residence, the latter, as well as his wife, had been 
informed as to what had occurred to Helene, and they also 
received a hurried account of the conversation, which pre- 
ceded the fainting spell. 

“During our entire discussion,” continued von Cann- 
statt, “it seemed to me Helene must be either indisposed, or 
else the topic was chosen by her purposely. To me the 
latter appears inexplicable, and to make quite sure I have 
come to you, because I thought if she were entangled in 
any love affair you would likely know about it.” 

The colonel, without a moment’s hesitation, at once 
launched out in recounting all the details in his knowledge, 
laying great stress upon the “disgraceful” episode of the 
opera. How he had then for the first time discovered the 
affair. Of course, in speaking of Junker, he treated that 
young man most unsparingly; in fact, there was not, accord- 
ing to his description, “a decent atom in the fellow’s entire 
composition.” He was a pariah, an outcast, a human being 
beyond the possibility of deserving the least recognition 
from a von Cannstatt or a von Wuesthoff 

“He is a common fellow, a farmer’s son, a private sol- 
dier,” were the remarks with which Wuesthoff closed his 
tirade. 

And as for Helene, she was not handled with gloves, 
either. Her charming sister, ever jealous of the younger 
child, seemed to take particular delight in telling her father 
how she had argued, protested, and taken Helene to task 
for bringing such disgrace and dishonor upon her noble 
name and position. 

“But, dear papa,” she continued, “you know very well 
how headstrong, opinionated and self-willed Helene is ; you 
have spoilt her all her life. You must be familiar with her 


59 


notions about the equality of man, so I will not pain you by 
further recalling it all to you. Of course, whatever I said 
had not the least effect upon her, except, so it seemed to 
me, of making her more persistent in declaring that she 
loved this low man, and would continue to love him until 
she died.” 

“These were the consoling words the old man had to 
listen to from one of his daughters about the other. 

“I feel that you are right in everything you say,” he 
replied,” Helene has certainly disappointed me very much. 
How it grieves me I cannot tell, and I have always been so 
fond of her, how proud I was of her, how I have loved her 
and this is my reward. But I swear to you she shall never 
marry this person, not while I live. I would sooner see 
her carried in her coffin, than see her the wife of a peasant. 
And yet; and yet, she has been a good, loving and devoted 
child to me hitherto, so thoughtful, so affectionate, I can- 
not believe all this you tell me, it cannot, it must not be 
true.” 

“Would you like to see this fellow,” asked the colonel 
with a sardonic smile on his face. 

The general hesitated for a moment ; at last however, 
he remarked ; “Yes, I think I would.” 

“Then I will send for him, perhaps you might induce 
him to renounce Helene for some consideration.” 

General von Cannstatt was looking out of the window 
when Karl approached the house, and an exclamation of 
admiration escaped him, as he noticed the fine figure, the 
noble carriage and the gentlemanly appearance of the fel- 
low, in spite of the fact that Karl was dressed in the uniform 
of a private soldier. 

“That young man is more than an ordinary character, 
I like his looks, what a pity he belongs to the bourgoisie. 
There is one thing certain, he is not the kind who can be 
bought with money as you intimated,” von Cannstatt said 
to his son in law, when the door opened and Junker was 
announced. 

The colonel and his wife withdrew, and Karl found 
himself face to face with the general, whom he at once rec- 
ognized, and he naturally realized why he had been sent 
fpr. 

“What is “his” name ?” the general immediately began 
questioning him. 


6o 


“Karl Junker.” 

“Where does ‘he’ come from ?” 

“The Rhenish Provinces.” 

“What occupation has ‘his’ father ?” 

“He is a farmer.” 

“Was ‘his’ father a soldier ?” 

“At your service, general, he was ; and if you will 
allow me to say so, he had the honor of serving under you 
when you were colonel of the Fourth regiment of Cuiras- 
siers in Deutz.” 

“Hm,” and von Cannstatt put his forefinger to his nose, 
as if he tried to refresh his memory, then he said : “And 
was ‘his’ father called “Der schoene Junker, (The handsome 

Junker) when ‘he’ was in my regiment ?” 

“Yes, General, I see you are kind , enough to remem- 
ber.” 

•‘And ‘he’ belongs to the infantry ?” 

“At your service, the Thirty-ninth regiment.” 

“Since when ?” • 

“1846, three years ago.” 

“I see ‘he’ is only a private, how is that ?” 

“I never sought promotion.” 

“Was ‘he’ offered any ?” 

“Yes, repeatedly, but I refused to accept it.” 

“What for?” 

“I never want to serve in the army in any other capac- 
ity, than that of a private !” 

“Papperlapap ! ‘he’ must be crazy.” 

“No, general I am not. 

The general sat down and for a minute or so not a 
word was exchanged between them, but all the while Herr 
von Cannstatt was looking at the young man, evidently 
communing with himself how to attack this man on the 
subject nearest his heart. Suddenly he got up again. 

“By the way,” he remarked, “I have been informed, 
that ‘he’ is in love with my daughter?” 

“At your service, general who ever may have been 
your informant, has told you the truth, I love your daugh- 
ter with all my heart.” 

•‘And where the devil did ‘he’ obtain the right to such 
an impertinence?” 

“She, who has the first right, graciously accorded me 
that privilege.” 


6 1 


“I suppose it never occurred to ‘him’ that I as her 
father ought to have been consulted in the matter at all?” 

“I admit your rebuke is justifiable, and I know that 
you must think me at fault in this respect, but I have been 
a prisoner in the barracks for almost a week, and anxious 
as I was to go and see you, it was impossible.” 

“A prisoner, what for ?” 

“I can merely surmise the cause, but I believe Colonel 
von Wuesthoff can inform you.” 

“Ah, I understand, — Well now listen ‘he’ to what I 
have to say to ‘him’ !” 

‘‘At your service, general, I am all attention.” 

“I said a few moments ago, that ‘he’ is crazy, and I 
was right. A common fellow like ‘he’ is, who presumes to 
fall in love with a high-born lady must be mad, if ‘he’ ex- 
pects that such a thing can be tolerated in this country. 
What ‘he’ deserves is a good horsewhipping, but for ‘his’ 
father’s sake I will be lenient, and if ‘he’ will promise me to 
forget, that ‘he’ ever had such a crazy notion, I will forgive 
‘him’ and let the matter pass.” 

“I beg your pardon, general, but when I came here I 
did not think, that you had sent for me in order to insult 
me. I am only a common soldier, a peasants son, but 
withal I am an honorable man. The love I entertain for 
your daughter is an honest love, it is for a life time. She 
has done me the hono/to accept it, and it will only be at 
her command that I renounce it.” 

“Pah, ‘he is a poltroon, a poet, ‘he’ should fall in love 
with an actress. 

“I am afraid for an actress my love would be too last- 
ing.” 

The general began to realize more than ever that in 
Junker he was not dealing with an ordinary peasant. The 
young fellows appearance, his manner and address were 
imposing. True, these were no reasons to make him more 
acceptable as a suitor for his daughter’s hand. He was a 
man of low birth, and he would have been objectionable 
had he been an Adonis in looks, a Socrates in wisdom and 
a Pythagoras in learning. Nevertheless the old aristocrat 
began to appreciate the manliness of Junker, and he decided 
to pursue a different line of argument with him, from which 
he promised himself better success. 

“Well, young man, let me come to the point,” he con- 


6i 


tinued, “then it is really true ‘he’ loves my daughter?” 

“Yes, general, it is, as I said before.” 

“Why, because she is a lady of rank, of position, of 
noble birth and family, because she is good looking ?” 

Karl did not answer, and the general continued : 

“Come, come, now, young man* ‘he’ loves her because 
she is rich !” 

“No, general, you wrong me, were she poorer, than the 
poorest maiden in the land I could not love her more nor 
less, than I do now.” 

“Then ‘he’ thinks, ‘he’ loves her unselfishly, disinter- 
estedly ?” 

“I do, general.” 

“With the sole intention of making her happy.” 

“That is the aim of my life.” 

“Very well, I will admit that ‘he’ is honest in ‘his’ in- 
tentions, but ‘he’ forgets that ‘he’ cannot carry them out. 
My daughter has been brought up entirely different from 
the girls of ‘his’ class. Does ‘he’ suppose, that a lady, who 
has been living all her life in a high social sphere, can im- 
mediately change her mode of existence and be happy in a 
new element ?” 

“Yes I do.” 

“Explain ‘he’ that.” 

“Goodness is alike in all human beings. Whatever 
good there is among the aristocracy is also to be found 
among us common people. It is only in the vices where 
we differ, and while your daughter may not find the same 
faults among us that are prone to the nobility, she will 
neither find any that are worse. As for a change in her 
mode of life, that is after all but a matter of custom, of 
habit, and I can assure you my love is strong enough not 
to cause her a moment’s regret or pain on that account.” 

“That is all pure sophistry, ‘he’ better have a care. I 
have been very patient with ‘him,’ but my good nature will 
not brook such idle theorizing. Helene is a lady, who has, 
all her life been accustomed to luxury, she has been waited 
upon from the moment she was born until this very hour. 
Every whim and wish of hers, that wealth could produce 
has been gratified, all the demands fickle fashion made upon 
her have ever been granted. Can ‘he’ not see, that she has 
become so accustomed to these things, that, to forego them, 
would be a hard task for her, a task, which would cause 


trouble, grief and unhappiness ?” 

“No, general; you will pardon me for my boldness and 
for my presumption to differ with you, but if that is the 
estimate which you have formed of your daughter, I must 
say that you do not know her character as well as I do.” 

“ ‘He’ certainly does give proof of the most sublime im- 
pertinence I have ever met with, and if I listen to ‘him’ any 
longer I shall certainly lose control over myself I see that 
we cannot agree, because ‘he’ argues from the standpoint of 
love, and I from reason and common sense. However, 
enough of this. I want ‘him’ to understand, that owing to 
the disparity of birth and position existing between ‘him’ and 
my daughter, ‘he’ can not make her happy ; and hence ‘he’ 
must, — does ‘he’ hear? I demand it, for her sake, — give up 
all idea of ever seeing her again. To this end I command 
‘him’ never to attempt speaking to her, wherever or when- 
ever ‘he’ may see her.” 

Junker was silent. The earnestness of the old man 
caused him to think for a minute. What if the general 
were right ? — and, no doubt, his argument was convincing. 
Sooner than make Helene unhappy, he would do anything. 
At last he replied : 

“General, forgive me ; I believe you are right. I have 
been looking at this question with the eye of love, and love, 
as you know, has no reasoning power. I am willing to ac- 
cept your demands, and I will not make the least effort ever 
to see or speak to your daughter again. You are a much 
older man than I, and have had vastly more experience, 
hence I will submit to your superior judgment. I love your 
daughter, and I should like to make her happy, but if I can 
not do it, I will bury that love forever. However, I have 
one condition, general, and that is that you will, immedi- 
ately upon your return home, acquaint your daughter with 
all the details of this interview, then let her be the arbiter of 
our fate, and whatever her decision, I will abide by it. Will 
you promise ?” 

“Why, dear fellow,” answered Herr von Cannstatt, “I 
certainly will. I knew that ‘he’ would come around to my 
way of thinking.” 

“Yes, but it has broken my heart to do it, general. 
Will you allow me to depart now ? — Good bye.” 

Before the other could say anything, Junker had left 
the room, and he hurried away to the barracks. 


6 4 


“That fellow certainly is a gentleman,” mused the gen- 
eral to himself ; “what a damn shame he is not a baron ; I 
would be delighted to give him my daughter; but a private 
soldier, a farmer’s son, good heavens ! it is not to be thought 
of. Now I must see whether Helene can be persuaded in 
the same way. This was a hard task, but I am afraid there 
is a harder one before me.” 


CHAPTER XII 

No sooner had Junker withdrawn from the general’s 
presence, than the latter also took his departure. He never 
even waited to see either his daughter or Colonel Wuest 
hoff. Returned to his home, the intelligence awaited him, 
that Helene was delirious and in a state of high fever. This 
filled him with alarm, and he started at once for the sick 
chamber, in order to hear the opinion of the physician. He 
met the doctor coming out of the apartment. 

“I hope there is nothing serious the matter with my 
daughter, Hansen,” said the general, addressing the physi- 
cian, who had been the medical attendant of the family for 
many years. 

“The gracious young lady, general, I am sorry to in- 
form you, is dangerously ill. As you are aware, she is nat- 
urally of a nervous temperament. She seems to have 
received a severe shock somehow, which has produced an 
attack of brain fever. It was fortunate you sent for me at 
once, and I have so far very strong hopes of bringing her 
about again. Still, it is but right to tell you the truth. 
Your noble daughter is in an alarming condition, and her 
case will require great skill and care.” 

“Good gracious, Hansen, is it really so bad as that ? I 
thought it merely a fainting spell, such as seems the custom 
nowadays for young ladies to indulge in, whenever the occa- 
sion seems to demand.” 

“Ah, but pardon me, general, your daughter is not a 
young lady who would faint for the sake of effect. There 
was a cause, and a serious one, which created the shock in 
her nervous organism. However, you had better come and 
see her, to be convinced of the gravity of her condition.” 

The old man refused to go at first ; he hated the sick 
chamber, but by dint of the doctor’s persuasion he was in- 
duced to go upstairs. When he entered the apartment and 


65 


looked at his daughter, he was perfectly amazed. Only a 
few hours ago she had been conversing with him, appar- 
ently in her usual health and spirits. Now he beheld her 
in a state of high fever and delirium. She was talking in an 
incoherent manner, but the general could tell by the words 
she uttered the subject which agitated her brain. Such 
words as Karl, Trenk, Princess Amalie and Frederick the 
Great, although mysterious to the physician and nurses, 
were perfectly plain to the general. After a few minutes, 
silently as he had entered, he went out of the apartment. 

“Do you think there is danger for my daughter’s life, 
doctor ?” 

“Not at present, but I cannot say what developments 
this attack may have. She is young, strong, and there are 
other symptoms which indicate a favorable outcome, but it 
is yet too early to make any prognostications upon her 
case. Of course I shall do my best. I would also advise 
that you call in another practitioner, a specialist in such 
cases, and I believe she will then recover. In the meantime 
we must hope for the best. I will keep you constantly ad- 
vised how she is progressing. Do not give way to unnec- 
essary fears ; while there is life there is hope.” 

With these remarks the physician left the general, who 
went into his library, deep in thought and sorely troubled 
as to what would be the end of all this. Yet here was only 
the beginning. Helene did not get better, neither the next 
day nor the day after. On the fourth day both physi- 
cians almost admitted that they were baffled in battling with 
the fever, which appeared to have taken complete possession 
of the beautiful young creature. Then came the crisis. 
Hansen and the great specialist both stayed with their pa- 
tient through an entire night, but when the day dawned 
there came at last a turning point, and it seemed for the 
better. 

For the first time since she had been carried upstairs, 
Helene regained a natural calmness of manner, and she lay 
quietly upon the bed, where she had lately been writhing in 
the most agonizing throes of delirium. The general was at 
once informed of the change, and a sigh of relief escaped 
him. Towards the afternoon Helene was awake and con- 
scious for a time. She seemed to be anxious to say some- 
thing, but her weakness would not allow her to articulate. 
One of the nurses, noticing her efforts to speak, leaned over 


66 


her, and she whispered : 

“I want to see my father.” 

The medical gentlemen, when informed, were for a mo- 
ment undecided what to do, but the gratification of this 
wish was at last consented to, and General von Cannstatt 
was asked to come and see his daughter. 

The old nobleman received the summons with evident 
delight. The last few days had been a great trial to him. 
He had missed his child, his companion, his entertainer, in 
a thousand ways. Had he lost his right arm, it would not 
have bothered him half as much as to do without his daugh- 
ter. He entered the sick room with tears in his eyes. Bow- 
ing his head over the bed, he kissed Helene, who, with a 
great effort, raised her arms and put them around his neck. 

“What can I do, darling, to make you get well ?” he 
asked her. 

She looked at him, and there shone forth from her eyes 
a glance of ten de rest appeal. 

“Only one thing ; let me marry the man I love,” she 
whispered, and then she fell back into the pillows exhausted. 

For a moment the father felt like yielding, but soon the 
aristocrat asserted itself within him, and he replied : “I 
cannot, Helene.” 

The pallid lips of the frail young sufferer did not move 
in reply, but a look of disappointment appeared in her eyes, 
so painful, so sorrowful, it might have softened the heart 
of anyone, except a stern old soldier. In a few min- 
utes there were signs of returning restlessness visible in the 
patient, and both doctors were sorry they had given per- 
mission to the general’s coming to undo what they had ac- 
complished with such untiring efforts. The father left the 
room. He was grieved for his child and wished, he 
could help her except in the way in which she desired. In 
the retirement of his library he deplored his misfortune of 
possessing a daughter, who had so little regard for the tra- 
ditional customs of his race, so little respect for her rank 
and position. One thing seemed curious, unless it were 
explained by his age and the unusual excitement, which 
the general had gone through in the last few days, and that 
was : he was not fully convinced of the gravity of his daugh- 
ter’s illness. He could not understand, that she might be 
dying. 

The visit of her father to Helene, although it retarded 


67 


her progress towards recovery, had one good effect. It 
opened the eyes of Doctor Hansen to the suspicion, that 
the old nobleman had a great deal to do with his daughter’s 
sickness. Hansen was a shrewd old fellow, quick to observe 
things and to turn his observations to advantage. Had it 
not been for this singular faculty of the physician this story 
would probably never have been written. But Hansen was 
also a cautious man, and he deemed it wise to keep his own 
counsel, until he had found out the origin of the trouble. 
During the evening the young lady was again delirious. 
Hansen being present, sat down on the bed and took notes 
of every utterance of the patient, as it fell from her lips. 
When he got home he studied the words he had jotted 
down, and he came to a conclusion not very far from the 
truth. 

“The young conntess is in love with somebody, and 
her father refuses to give his consent to the attachment,” 
he remarked to himself, “well, if I can help her I will do it, 
I may save her life and make her happy at the same time.” 

On the following day another sudden change for the 
better took place in the condition of Helene. The fever 
had at last been subdued by the incessant vigilance of the 
doctors and nurses. It was one of the latter, who first 
noticed the absence of any fever in the patient, and she im- 
mediately went to inform Hansen of the good news. This 
gentleman, however, received the intelligence very calmly 
and without evincing the least joy, much to the disappoint- 
ment of the attendant. 

“This is not necessarily a sign of the recovery of our 
patient,” he remarked. “It is often the case, that a sudden 
departure of the fever is merely a forerunner of the ap- 
proaching fatal end, and you will have to be even more 
careful now, in order to prevent this. I will at once go with 
you to see for myself.” 

And the watchful doctor was just in time, as an incident 
had taken place, which threatened to substantiate the fears 
contained in the doctor’s assertion. The young lady upon 
returning to consciousness gazed anxiously about the room 
as if looking for some one. She was evidently disappointed 
in her search and beckoned the nurse to her bedside. 

“Have I been ill very long?” she whispered. 

“Yes, my lady, but you are now much better, and we 
hope you will soon be well and strong again.” 


68 


“Where is my father ?” 

“In his library, I believe, do you want to see him ?” 

“Yes, indeed, very much,” and the nurse thinking it 
would afford her a great pleasure at once sent word to von 
Cannstatt, that his daughter would like to see him. 

The general very soon appeared, and as he leaned over 
the bed to kiss Helene, she murmured : 

“Oh, papa, I do not want to die, yet I think I shall, if 
you do not send for Karl. Do papa, pray do, I love him 
so.” 

It was pitiful to see this suffering, frail creature, thin 
and emaciated, looking for all the world, as if she had 
wrested her life from the throes of death, in order to make 
this, her last appeal to her father. But the heart, usually 
kind and generous, seemed to be changed into adamant. 
He had an idea, that Helene was now out of danger alto- 
gether, and it seemed to him an excellent opportunity to 
fulfill his promise to Junker of informing her about the in- 
terview he had with that young man. But at this moment 
the door opened and Hansen appeared. He took the situ- 
ation in at a glance and apologizing to the general he po- 
litely but firmly motioned him away from the bed. Then 
he took hold of the young lady’s hand, as if feeling her 
pulse, and, after what appeared to have been a thorough 
investigation into the existing condition of Fraeulein von 
Cannstatt’s case, he turned to the old nobleman and re- 
marked with the blandest of smiles : 

“You will pardon me, general, but your gracious daugh- 
ter cannot be permitted to hold any conversation, if you 
wish her to live.” 

Von Cannstatt walked out of the room murmuring 
something about the impertinence of sawbones and quacks, 
which, while it may have eased his ruffled temper, did no 
one any harm. 

Then Hansen inquired how the general happened into 
the sick chamber, and when the nurse, who had sent for 
him acknowledged the cause, the doctor immediately sug- 
gested to her the expediency of packing her belongings 
preparatory to her departure for home. To the one who 
had called him, he said : 

“In future, I wish you never to leave Lady von Cann- 
statt under any circumstances whatever, and be good 
enough to observe, that ‘no one/ is allowed to enter this 


6g 


apartment without my permission.” 

The nurse bowed and nodded submissively, Hansen 
now turned his attention to the suffering young lady. Sit- 
ting down on a chair beside the bed, he took hold of her 
hand and fondled it like a father might fondle the hand of 
his child, then he said : 

“My gracious Fraeulein, you have been and are even 
now very dangerously ill, and whether you will recover, 
rests to a great extent with yourself. I wish you to re- 
member that there is some one living, who will be made 
very unhappy, if you die, unhappy during all his life. Now, 
I know well enough, you would not willingly cause a mo- 
ments pain to anyone, much less to those you love. It is 
therefore necessary, that you do your best and get well as 
quickly as you can. I have been your servant and friend 
from the day you were born and you know I may be 
trusted. Still I am merely a physician, and it is my busi- 
ness to prescribe such medicine as will do your case good. 
But while my pharmacopaea has no remedy for your ail- 
ment, I will nevertheless find the cure for your disease, be- 
cause I think, — and here the genial doctor smiled — I have 
discovered its origin.” 

Perceiving that Helene was making an effort to speak, 
he held up his hand to prevent her, while he continued : 
“Do not utter a word, I know all you want to say, have 
confidence in me, try to get well, and all will come right.” 

The medical gentleman then gave some other direc- 
tions to the attendant, whereupon he left the apartment to 
hunt for the general. He soon found himself at the library 
door. He knocked, and a short, abrupt “Entre,” told him 
that Herr von Cannstatt was within. 

“I have come to intrude upon you,” Hansen began, 
closing the door behind him, “because I feel I owe you an 
apology for my peremptoriness a few minutes ago in your 
daughter’s apartment. As an extenuation of my impolite- 
ness I can only say that I was urged to it, out of the deep- 
est consideration for Fraeulein von Cannstatt’s condition. 
I may also add that you have known me long enough to be 
assured I would not insult anybody, much less a nobleman, 
in his own house. We doctors are peculiar beings, must 
do peculiar things and on that account should have peculiar 
privileges accorded us. 

Tlie general appeared to be considerably mollified by 


7 o 


this apology of the good natured doctor. 

“That is all right, Hansen,” he replied, “I dare say you 
did it with the best intention, and I am not offended in the 
least.” 

“Of course I did, and that reminds me that I came in 
here for another purpose. Your daughter, as you must be 
aware is dangerously ill, and I have really almost given up 
hope that she will pull through.” 

“Good gracious, you do not, you cannot mean it, my 
only child, so young, so beautiful, what shall I do without 
her ?” 

“Ah, that’s it, general, but when those we love most 
are about to die, we are never asked whether we can 
spare them. I have paid the closest possible attention to 
her case. I have had a written report made out by the 
nurses of every action of the patient, even so far as to have 
them write down what she said in her irrational moments. 
I have studied everything that would offer me the least 
clue to the s£at of the trouble, and — I have arrived at the 
conclusion, that your daughter’s heart is affected in a way 
for which there is but one cure.” 

“And what is that ?” 

“Give the heart what it yearns for.” 

“But how can we find out what that is ?” 

“You do not have to.” 

“Ah, then you know ?” 

“No, but you do.” 

“I?” 

“Your gracious daughter is in love, general, and, par- 
don me for my frankness, with a gentleman of whom you 
do not approve.” 

The general walked around the room with his eyes on 
the carpet, as if studying the pattern. Suddenly he stopped, 
and, jerking (as it were) the words out of his mouth, he 
said : 

“Well, and supposing you are correct?” 

“Well, then here is my remedy : Give your consent to 
the attachment, and she will recover.” 

“Hansen, you do not know what you ask, because you 
are not familiar with the affair. It is impossible for me to 
do so.” 

“Why, is the man a thief, a murderer, or is he dead ?” 
“No.” 


7i 


“What is it, then, that prevents you ?” 

“That, sir, is none of your business. You may be my 
doctor, but I have not yet appointed you my father con- 
fessor.” 

If the general thought that this would, metaphorically 
speaking, floor this disciple of Hisculapius, he was greatly 
mistaken. Dr. Hansen had come here with a motive, and 
he was determined not to be put off. 

“I am sorry, general, that you should regard my ques- 
tion as an affront. I am sure I had no intention of inter- 
fering with your affairs or prying into the knowledge of 
your private business. This illness of your daughter is an 
alarming one, and I am anxious to restore her to you in 
good health. It is my belief that she can be restored, pro- 
vided certain means are applied, means which you have 
in your possession As the young lady’s father, is it unnat- 
ural for me to ask you for them ? But of course, if it is 
immaterial whether your daughter gets well or not, and if 
you consider that I have transgressed the limits of a phy- 
sician’s prerogative, very well, let us abandon the subject. 
You can call in another medical man, ‘the woods are full of 
them,’ but you will also lose your only daughter, and her 
place can never be filled.” 

Herr von Cannstatt stood there, his chin on his chest, 
and he realized that Hansen was correct in his argument. 
It was easy to get another doctor, but he could never find 
another Helene. Yet, it was a bitter pill for his aristocratic 
pride, to make this man the confidant in this affair; still, 
what could he do ? So he told him all. 

Hansen listened to the story without appearing in the. 
least astonished, nor did he volunteer any opinion as to the 
propriety of the case. 

Hansen was a man with a heart full of the milk of hu - 
man kindness, and his religion was to see everybody happy, 
To him' all human beings were alike. When he was sent 
for in a professional capacity, he never questioned whether 
he was going to the house of a laborer, or into the palace 
of a duke. His mission was to alleviate the sufferings of 
humanity, and he performed his mission to the best of his 
ability with the same zeal and integrity upon the poor as 
well as the rich. 

“Well,” he said, when the general had concluded his 
narration, “there is but one thing you can do in this affair ; 


7 2 


you must send for this young man, or else your daughter 
will not live.” 

“Never !” 

“Very well ; if you estimate your child’s life and happi- 
ness so lightly, you will have to take the responsibility of 
her death with you into your own grave.” 

“Estimate it lightly; by heaven ! I do not. I love her 
better than any one else on this earth. But still I cannot 
consent to have her form a mesalliance, or allow her to fall 
in love with a common farmer’s son.” 

“And what does it matter, if that will make your daugh- 
ter happy ?” 

“Ah, Hansen, you do not understand, you are a man of 
the people yourself ; if you were an aristocrat, you would 
know what I mean.” 

“No, I am not, and if sacrificing the happiness of one’s 
own children is one of the obligations of aristocracy, I am 
thankful I was born of the people.” 

“That will do, Hansen ; let us cease this discussion.” 

“Very well, general, but let me remind you once more, 
there is but one remedy for your daughter’s disease !” 

“I shall not forget. In the meantime, I desire you to 
try what your own skill as a medical man can do. People 
do not die of love.” 

“No, but of broken hearts.” 


CHAPTER XIII. 

During these days, the life of Junker was a terrible 

trial. 

From the moment he had left the colonel’s house after 
that interview with Herr von Cannstatt, his mind was in a 
fever of excitement. He constantly expected a message for 
his appearance at the general’s residence. For of course, 
when he made the agreement with Helene’s father to have 
her decide their fate, he was fully convinced the young lady, 
if she loved him as he felt she did, would never consent to 
a termination of her relationship with him. 

But the anxiously looked for summons seemed never 
to be coming. Each morning’s dawn awoke him with feel- 
ings of hope that the coming day would bring tidings from 
her, in whose love he had implicit faith. Yet each setting 
sun saw him retire into an unobserved corner, his heart 


7 3 


almost crushed with disappointment. This awful suspense 
between hope and despair wrought havoc with his nerves, 
which naturally had its effect upon his disposition. Espe- 
cially was this noticeable during the first few days after that 
momentous interview. To his comrades in the barracks 
Junker had become an enigma, because they had no knowl- 
edge of the causes which had brought this change. But his 
two friends, Frederick and Phillip, who were at least partly 
acquainted w r ith Karl’s troubles, watched him with serious 
concern. All their attempts, however, to induce him to 
talk were fruitless. He accepted their advances with the 
same kindliness of manner, which seemed to be part of his 
nature, but he evaded all allusions to the real cause of his 
unhappiness. 

This was very exasperating to those open-hearted 
young fellows, who among themselves had never known 
what it was to keep a secret from one another. But in spite 
of this display of secrecy and want of confidence on the part 
of Junker, their love for him never waned, and their ardor 
to serve him never cooled. 

“There is something wrong,’’ Frederick growled one 
day, “and since we can not find out from him, we must go 
somewhere else to discover the cause.” 

“But what can we do? Where can we go?” interrog- 
atively replied the other. “He don’t write any letters to the 
young lady, either, that’s what puzzles me ; and when one 
hints at her, his face grows red, and he frowns and fidgets 
about, it’s enough to scare a fellow. There is something 
wrong, as you say, and by my sergeant’s stripes we will 
have to find out what it is.” 

“How are we going to do it?” 

“I don’ — by heavens, I have got it !” 

“I am very glad to hear it; let me know all about it.” 

“Since he won’t come out with it, we must go to the 
young lady and get her to talk. The trouble is between 
them.” 

“Huh ! how will you get her to talk ? Likely fellows 
we are to call on a young and beautiful countess to question 
her about her lover. No, that won’t do.” 

“You blockhead, you don’t suppose I intend to address 
her personally ?” 

“Anyhow, that is what you said. What do you mean, 
then ? Don’t you begin beating about the bush, as well as 


74 


the other. One of us three in the sulks is quite enough.” 

“Well, I am going to interview her maid. I never yet 
heard of one of these ‘Kammerkaetzchen’ who did not know 
all about her mistress’s affairs.” 

“Shake hands, Phil ; by Jove you are quite a diplomat; 
that certainly is a good idea. When are you going?” 

“Immediately.” 

The sergeant might have been noticed half an hour 
later passing through the barrack gate on his way to the 
Cannstatt residence. His “plan of campaign,” as he termed 
it, once determined upon, he proceeded to carry it out in a 
manner worthy of Machiavelli. Fortune favored him. He 
had arrived within a hundred yards of the general’s man- 
sion, when he observed a young fellow — evidently the baker’s 
boy, to judge by a huge basket on his shoulder — emerge 
from the gate. Phillip stopped him when they met, and 
entered into a conversation with the guileless youth, in 
which the former did all the questioning and the other all 
the answering. The result was, in less than five minutes 
the soldier knew the name of every one of the servants in 
the Cannstatt family, from the butler and housekeeper to the 
stable boy and the scullery maid. He had been informed of 
the sickness of her ladyship, the nature thereof, the number 
of physicians and nurses attending her, and after telling him 
the young lady was expected to die, the boy said : 

“And it is all because she is in love with some one 
the general don’t like.” 

Phillip thought he had learned enough for one day, 
and he therefore concluded to return. He found Frederick 
patiently waiting for him, and he was astonished to see him 
back so soon. 

“Well, you certainly did not find out much in this 
time.” 

*T did though, listen. The old war horse has been in- 
formed of the whole affair, and of course he put his veto on 
it. The result is, the young lady is now supposed to be 
dying.” 

“The devil you say. That naturally explains the 
peculiar conduct of our friend. That is the reason he goes 
about as if he expected to be shot any minute. I wonder 
though whether he knows the young lady is ill, may be we 
had better tell him.” 

This they did, and to them, the effect of this upon 


75 


Junker, was surprising. Instead of showing signs of grief 
and sorrow at this unexpected intelligence, his face lit up 
with an expression of sublime satisfaction, and a sigh of re- 
lief escaped him. Soon, however, this gave way again to 
the old look of sadness. 

“And is she very ill ?” he asked. 

“Hm, well, that is, I believe, I don’t know, but, but I 
do not think so. I’ll go again and find out definitely,’’ 
stuttered and stammered the seargent, that question evi- 
dently having come too suddenly for him. 

“No, thank you, that is not necessary ; in fact I rather 
you would not go, because it might be discovered you went 
on my account, and under the circumstances I should not 
like to have such an idea go abroad.” 

From this day on it was noticed by Frederick and 
Phillip, that Karl, though he bore the plain marks ofa man 
whose heart was steeped in deep sorrow, was otherwise 
calm and self-possessed, as one who had resigned himself 
to his fate. The two friends kept up a diligent mode of 
cross examination upon the baker’s boy, whenever they 
saw him, but as the information never was of a favorable 
character regarding the young lady’s health, they kept it 
to themselves. Junker did not broach the subject again, 
though it was evident he seemed anxious about the sick 
lady. 

At last the morning dawned, upon the day which was 
to terminate the career of Junker in the army. Long before 
the bugle notes of the “reveille” resounded through the 
barracks, he rose from the bed, where he had been tossing 
the whole night in feverish excitement. This restlessness^ 
however, had not alone been caused by the thought that 
very soon he was to be once more a free man, untrammelled 
by the chains of military despotism. No, he worried more 
and his mind was chiefly agitated, an account of Helene. 
Was she really dying, or should he ever see her again ? 
Perhaps she might even now be dead. The previous night 
this feeling of fear and anxiety came so strongly over him, 
that he asked one of his friends, whether they had lately 
heard any news from the Cannstatt mansion about the con- 
dition of the patient. The information he received then had 
been discouraging and fearful dreams haunted him. The 
thoughts whirling through his tormented mind during the 
night, holding before his feverish brain the most pitiful 


76 


possibilities regarding the life of the woman he loved, were 
harrowing in the extreme, and made the hours seem like 
spells of eternity. When the eastern sky at last appeared 
in a faintly reddish hue, he uttered a sigh of thankfulness 
and welcome to the coming day. With the rapidly vanish- 
ing darkness, the gloomy murmurings of his heart seemed 
to disappear as well, and with the rising sun his bosom 
swelled with new hope for the future. The sound of the 
reveille inspired him like clarion chords of a fresh and 
happy life. He walked over to the bed of his friend Fred- 
erick, whom he found awake and ready to get up. 

“A few more hours, and we shall leave this place for 
ever,” he whispered. “When are we dismissed?” 

“Immediately after the close of this morning’s parade, 
all our papers are already made out.” 

“Thank God for that, I am now going to dress in my 
uniform for the last time.” 

These parades or inspections were held at uncertain 
intervals, sometimes once a week, or oftener. This morn- 
ing everything ‘appeared to be going wrong. Wuesthoff, 
the colonel of the regiment was evidently in a very bad 
humor, and as usual he found fault with everybody and 
everything. He swore in his own, inimitable style, and 
epithets whirled through the air like bullets on a battle 
field. The regiment had gone through several drills and 
exercises, all absolutely unsatisfactory him, so he announced 
that he was going to take command in his own hands. He 
rode up and down in front of the whole regiment, which 
was standing before him in two long rows of soldiers, one 
behind the other ; a living wall of fine, strong fellows. It 
was really a beautiful sight, the brass ornaments on the 
helmets the polished buttons and the mountings of the 
bayonets all shone in the sun, as if the men were decked in 
gold and silver. 

Von Wuesthoff looked along the line with a critical, 
searching eye, as if he were able to discover the cause for his 
bad temper among these soldiers. Suddenly his gaze fell 
upon Karl Junker. He stopped his horse in front of him 
and contemplated him with a look, that might give you a 
very good idea of the manner, in which a tiger would gaze 
at his prey before he made the leap to devour it. But the 
young man never moved a muscle. He stood, as if he had 
been hewn out of marble and his sobriquet, “The Apollo of 


77 


the Barracks,” suited him perfectly at this moment. While 
the colonel was looking at the young man, he must have 
been devising some diabolical plan for the benefit of the 
soldier, and moving up to him with his horse, he was about 
to address Junker, when an aid de camp came tearing along 
at full gallop and announced to von Wuesthoff that a mes- 
senger from General von Cannstatt had just arrived with a 
sealed note for him. 

“Then she must be dead,” he exclaimed loud enough, 
that Junker could hear it, and turning around he rode to- 
wards the group of officers, where the messenger awaited 
him. He hastily tore off the envelope and read the letter. 
Then he put it into his breast pocket, while with the other 
hand he mechanically pulled at his moustache, his mind 
evidently engrossed in thought. Suddenly he looked up 
and calling one of the officers to him, he remarked : 

“Have private Junker of the eighth company called 
here at once !” 

The officer obeyed and in another minute the captain 
of the “eighth” stood before his company giving the follow- 
ing command : 

“Private Junker ! Attention! Forward, march ! Halt! 
the colonel wants you !” 

Karl followed these instructions more like an automa- 
ton, than an animated being. Having heard the message 
delivered to the colonel by the aide-de-camp, as well as the 
exclamation made by the officer, the young man naturally 
became greatly affected. However, he hurried towards the 
colonel as fast as he could. 

“Can ‘he’ ride a horse ?” he asked Junker. 

“At your service, colonel !” 

“Then take that one of the messenger’s, and ride as 
hard as ‘he’ can to the residence of General von Cannstatt, 
‘he’ is wanted there. Now march and be off!” 

But Junker did not want much urging, he was on his 
way before the colonel had time to finish the sentence. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

From the day the general and the doctor had their 
discussion about the patient in the former’s library, a re- 
markable change took place in the condition of Lady von 
Cannstatt. It was a change, however, in no way welcomed 


78 


by the anxious and experienced physician. While her suf- 
ferings hitherto had been characterized by excitement, de- 
lirium and excessive nervous activity, a complete reversal 
of her condition now began to manifest itself. Her mind 
was perfectly clear, but all the nerves in her system appeared 
to be absolutely prostrated. The violence of her ravings 
was now changed into a placid calm. She rarely spoke. 
To watch her as 'she lay on her bed, Helene presented a 
beautiful picture of passive resignation. She seemed to be 
oblivious to her surroundings. Her eyes bore a look of 
deepest meditation. The ministrations of the nurses she 
accepted without thanks or a murmur of disapproval. All 
day long she gazed through the window of her apartment, 
which afforded an excellent opportunity to view the Rhine. 
Even the occasional visits of her father were not sufficient 
to awake her from the apparent lethargy of mind and body 
which possessed her. The only time she gave any evidence 
of life, was when Dr. Hansen would approach and address 
her. She then made an effort to converse and show some 
interest in what the physician had to say. 

Thus the days wore on, and Hansen who scarcely al- 
lowed himself sufficient time to eat, watched the develop- 
ment of the young lady’s case with the gravest apprehen- 
sion. It was not long until he realized, that unless some- 
thing extraordinary was done to revive Helene from her 
lethargic stupor, nothing would save her life. He recog- 
nized that while he had prevented her from dying of a 
rapidly consuming fever, he had accomplished no good, 
because she had now fallen into a slow decline. The end 
was a little farther off, but after all, it was merely a question 
of time. 

‘•If I want to save that child’s life,” he said to himself 
one night, while on his way home after he had been sitting 
at Helene’s bedside for the past six hours, “I will have to 
get the general to send for that young man, and I shall 
overcome his obstinacy yet, by heavens I will.” 

Anyone who knew the doctor and heard him say so, 
would have been convinced, that he meant it. He had a 
persistency of purpose and a determination of manner, 
which never acknowledged defeat until actually subdued. 

The following morning, when the doctor made his 
usual call at the Cannstatt residence, he announced to the 
nurses in a voice loud enough for the patient to hear him, 


79 


that she could not live another 36 hours. Then he left the 
apartment for the general’s library, and imparting to him 
the same information, he added : 

“I am very sorry, general, I could not induce you to 
save your daughter from an early grave, because I fear it is 
now too late.” 

There was a tone of grief in these few impressive words 
which did not fail to have their effect upon the old gentle- 
man. The general stared at Hansen in open mouthed won- 
der, and for the first time since Helene’s illness did he seem 
to arrive at a full realization of what these words meant to 
him. He staggered to his feet looking at the doctor, as if 
he had been aroused from a trance. Then he tottered and 
had not Hansen quickly jumped forward the old man 
would have fallen to the floor. 

“For God’s sake, Hansen, the child is not dead!” he 
burst out. 

“No, she is not dead yet, but the end cannot be far 

off.” 

“Ah, it cannot, it must not be, I will not have her die.” 

“Those wishes are all too late now, I am afraid,” re- 
marked the doctor. 

“Is there nothing that can be done. Are the resources 
of your profession so limited, that they cannot save a life 
so young, so beautiful, from the grave ?” 

“As far as my knowledge goes, I must admit, the case 
is beyond me.” 

“And is there nothing that can be done ?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Let us go and see her.” 

Both went upstairs. When the doctor opened the door, 
and the general beheld the emaciated form of his daughter, 
a film seemed to fall from his vision, and he realized the 
physician’s statement as all too true. He wondered why 
he had not been able to notice the serious condition of his 
child long ago. He threw himself down before the bed, 
took her hands in his and kissed them again and again, 
while the tears rolled down the furrowecT wrinkles of his 
cheeks, as if never in his life, had he shed any.' 

Helene had noticed her father entering the room, and 
as she now observed him crying before her, she slowly, 
with a great effort, turned towards him. 

“Do not cry, papa dear, because I am going to die, it 


8o 


is better so. I am glad it soon will be over,” she whispered. 
“I want to go dear papa, because now that you cannot love 
me any more I would not care to live any longer. If I 
have caused you sorrow, I hope you will forgive me, but I 
could not help loving Karl Junker, he was so good, so 
brave, so noble, so handsome, and I feel sure had you 
known him, you would have loved him too.” 

“Stop my child, stop,” cried the old man, “every word 
you utter, cuts my heart like a dagger. It is I who should 
ask forgiveness. Blind fool that I was to sacrifice the life 
of my child, the only treasure I possess, for a mere opinion 
of the world. But my eyes are open now, and if it is not 
too late, I will make every amend in my power. I will 
even send for this young man, if you desire it.” 

The effect these words produced upon Helene was 
indescribable. Her face lit up, as if a halo of health and 
life had suddenly descended upon her. She actually seemed 
to be smiling, and the faint flush on her cheeks showed that 
the blood appeared to be coursing through her veins al- 
most as vigorously as in health. But she scarcely believed 
that her father really meant what he said, and she replied : 
“It can never be too late to sencLfor him, the very thought 
of knowing that he is coming will keep me alive, until he 
arrives.” 

“Very well, my dear child, he shall be here in less than 
an hour/’ 

“Thank you, thank you, dearest papa,” she sighed, 
kissing her father repeatedly. “I knew, that you would not 
let me die without approving of my love, and if I must die, 
even now, I shall have a peaceful death.” 

The general left the room to write a note to Colonel 
Wuesthofif, asking him to order Junker to his house with 
all possible speed. He made no explanation and gave no 
reason, except that the case was urgent. Then he returned 
to the sick chamber, but what a different aspect the place 
bore now, to what it did a short time ago. The old, faith- 
ful doctor made jokes with the nurses, and they smiled for 
the first time, since they had entered the Cannstatt mansion. 
Helene lay quietly resting on her pillow. She had her 
head turned towards the door, in order that she might no- 
tice anybody at once upon entering. 

“How are you now, my dear daughter, do you still 
feel, as if you had to die so soon ? What would become 


8i 


of me were I to lose you. I should be like a cripple without 
his crutch.” And turning towards the doctor, he remarked : 
What is your opinion, Hansen, is there nothing that will 
save my child, I could do even more than I have done al- 
ready. To save her life no sacrifice would be too great for 
me.” 

The medical gentleman was about to reply, when the 
door opened, and a message was brought to him. 

“I will answer your question when I return, general, 
please excuse me for a moment, I am wanted downstairs.” 

The fact was Junker had already arrived, and the doc- 
tor had been apprised of it first, because he had given in- 
structions to that effect. He now hurried to receive him. 
One look at the young man, whom he had never seen, 
sufficed him to observe that Lady von Cannstatt might have 
done much worse by falling in love with an aristocrat. The 
doctor introduced himself, and without another word beckon- 
ed the young man to follow him. Karl obeyed and the two 
walked upstairs, the younger man, however, was anxious 
with fear and wonder. He would have been glad had the 
doctor given him an opportunity to ask some questions. 
At last Hansen stopped. 

“A word of advice, my dear friend before we enter,” he 
addressed Junker, “behind this door is the room in which 
Lady von Cannstatt has now been sick for some time. 
The sufferings, mentally and physically, which she has 
undergone have been very great. Time and again I have 
almost despaired of her life, even now, I do not know, 
whether she will get well again or not. It has been mainly 
through my instrumentality, that you are here. I have had 
an idea all along that your appearance and a reconciliation 
between the young lady and her father, might produce an 
effect upon the patient, which would lead to her recovery. 
It is the only hope there is to save her life. I have loved 
the lady since she was born, in fact I was the first person 
who ever saw her. So you can see my interest is more, 
than that of an ordinary physician. Now I want you to go 
in very quietly, display no excitement whatever. Greet 
her as if your coming were a matter of course. Make no 
protestations and at all events, prevent a scene.” 

“I assure you, doctor, I am deeply grateful for all you 
have said to me and I will endeavor to follow your instruc- 
tions to the letter.” 


82 


“All right, go in.” 

Karl had scarcely opened the door, when the general 
ran towards him, and holding out both his hands for a wel- 
come, cried: “You remember our compact, young man, 
well, I have kept my word, I have sent for you, and I am 
very glad indeed you have responded so promptly.” 

The young soldier was astonished. Such a greeting 
he had not expected from Herr von Cannstatt. Looking 
around the room he noticed Helene on her sick bed. He 
was painfully amazed at that frail form, which his recent 
recollection pictured to him in all her youthful health and 
beauty, and who now lay before him almost wasted away. 
He was shocked for a moment, and wondering whether that 
was really Helene alive, or whether she were dead. But 
ever since he had entered, her eyes had been fixed upon 
him, now she looked up, opened her lips and smiled, while 
from her eyes shone forth a light which seemed to reflect 
the joy within her. Junker was overcome, and kneeling at 
the foot of the bed he buried his face in his hands, while 
bitter tears rolled down his cheeks. 

“Do not cry, Karl, dearest,” Helene said, trying hard 
to make her feeble voice heard. Now you have come, I am 
sure I shall get well again ; you are the only physician who 
can cure my illness.” 


CHAPTER XV. 

Junker’s advent into the Cannstatt household produced 
a most remarkable effect upon everybody in it. Before he 
had been there two days, all sorrow, grief and anxiety about 
the much beloved patient had vanished from the counte- 
nances of all, who but a short while ago walked through 
the house with tearful eyes, expecting the news to come 
from the sick chamber at any moment, that the sweet young 
lady had died. His presence acted as a panacea for all the 
ills and sufferings, physical and mental, which, until Junker 
came, gave the place the resemblance of a hospital ward. 
The former whisperings of the servants were changed into 
laughter and pleasant small talk. The soft and noiseless 
tiptoeing, incidental to the presence of sickness, now gave 
way to a buoyancy of motion among the inmates of the 
house, which indicated despair had been driven out by re- 


83 


newed hope and confidence for the young lady’s life. 

As for General von Cannstatt, he seemed to have taken 
a new lease of life. It is but due him to say that, now he 
had made up his mind to condone Helene’s love for Junker, 
he did everything in his power to make these two forget he 
had ever been opposed to it. When he heard it was the last 
day of Junker’s service in the army, he was greatly delight- 
ed, and insisted upon Karl making the Cannstatt mansion 
his home until his return to his parents. 

The idea of the young lady’s death seemed to have dis- 
appeared from everybody’s mind since Junker had been ad- 
mitted into her presence. The effect of this worked won- 
ders. The very sight of him she loved seemed to have 
wrought such a change over her, which rendered Helene 
almost completely transformed. She was now always cheer- 
ful, pleasant and talkative. That this change in her manner 
and condition produced some effect upon those surrounding 
her is of course natural. The faithful old doctor was espe- 
cially delighted beyond conception, and to dispel all doubts 
as to the genuineness of his feelings, he said to Junker one 
day : “I am ready at any time to bow my acknowledgments 
to your superior skill in handling a case like this.” How- 
ever, even the nurses, usually grave and taciturn from their 
dreary, weary occupation, got an inspiration from the gen- 
eral change which seemed to have infused the whole house- 
hold. They did what nurses rarely ever do, they smiled. 

The dreaded evening, that was to have been the last on 
this earth for poor, suffering Helene, arrived and found her 
resting in a quiet, tranquil sleep, the first real restful hours 
she had had since the day she was taken ill. Dr. Hansen, 
who was in the room at the time, noticed it, and a smile of 
satisfaction stole over his good-natured countenance. He 
sent for the general, who came up hurriedly, looking greatly 
disturbed when he entered the room. 

“Do not be alarmed, general,” whispered the doctor, 
“look here; your daughter is asleep for the first time during 
her long and severe illness. Do you not think it was well 
worth our while to get this young man as a physician ?” 

“You are right, Hansen, it is a marvelous change, and 
this young fellow must be a real wizard. Do you know, I 
myself feel vastly different from what I did this morning. 
It seems as if I had a heavy load taken off my mind. There 
is a buoyancy I experience all over me, that makes me feel 


8 4 


almost young again ; and my rheumatism, why, I have not 
felt a twinge for six hours. And, do you know, I am be- 
ginning to like Junker for himself, and not alone because he 
saved my child’s life. Of course, I cannot help being sorry 
that he is not a man of birth and family, but I have had a 
talk with him in my library, and would you believe it, he is 
quite intellectual. He can converse entertainingly upon any 
subject, history, the dr2.ma, political economy, art, the clas- 
sics ; yes, just imagine, he is even well versed in the classics. 
I should never have believed that a farmer’s son, a common 
soldier, could know anything about these things. It is per- 
fectly astounding, and, by the way, he tells me that he is a 
lawyer by profession ; now, that certainly is better than if he 
were a tailor, or a shoemaker.” 

Thus the old gentleman kept on in his naive manner. 
He seemed to be speaking to himself, rather than the doc- 
tor, and he appeared to be hunting for excuses to himself, 
that he had done right, and that Junker, instead of being a 
nobody, was some one he had reason to be proud of. 

“And Hansen,” he continued, “did you ever see a hand- 
somer man in your life? Hoi mich der Teufel , he is a per- 
fect Adonis ; if I were a girl I think I could fall in love with 
him myself.” Suddenly his eyes noticed Helene’s form 
moving in her sleep, and, walking softly to the bed, he said : 

“My beautiful, beloved child, how peacefully she sleeps. 
Do you see that smile hovering around her lips ? And to 
think that I could have been cruel enough to almost kill 
her. Ah, I am glad, and thankful to you, that you came to 
me this morning and aroused me at last to my duty. After 
all, of what value are the distinctions of aristocracy in com- 
parison with a young life like hers ?” 

“They amount to nothing!” replied the doctor, with 
emphasis. 

“Yes, yes, to be sure, and I never thought of that be- 
fore.” But he evidently was yet too fresh a convert to this 
doctrine, and he changed the subject. 

“Hansen, what do you think of Helene now, when do 
you believe she will be well again ?” 

“It is hardly time yet to venture an opinion on that 
point, but the wonderful transformation her entire system 
seems to have undergone in the last few hours warrants me 
in saying it will not be long.” 

“Then you hold her to be out of danger?” 


85 


“Judging by all indications, yes, she is out of danger.” 

“I thank you, Hansen,” and the general gave a sigh 
which indicated that this information greatly pleased him. 
He took hold of the doctor’s hand and pressed it with fer- 
vor. They walked together out of the sick chamber down 
the stairs. Arrived at the door of the library, the general 
suddenly stopped, and turning around he laid his hand on 
Hansen’s shoulder, and said, while his voice quivered with 
emotion : 

“If my daughter had died, you would have been obliged 
to dig two graves at the same time ; I could not have sur- 
vived her loss.” 

By order of the general, the certificates dismissing 
Junker from the army, as well as all his effects, had been 
brought to the house, and now Karl was once more a civil- 
ian. He took immediate advantage of this circumstance by 
taking off his uniform, and when Herr von Cannstatt noticed 
the change in his dress he gave him a look of approbation, 
which showed Karl that his thoughtfulness was appreciated. 

When Doctor Hansen called on the following day, he 
found his patient greatly improved. He was now certain 
that she had started on the road of speedy convalescence to 
eventual recovery. Convinced of this, he had this bulletin 
immediately conveyed to the general, who received it with 
delight. 

During the excitement of the last few days, the father 
had not thought ot any one but his younger daughter, but 
now he suddenly remembered the Wuesthoffs, and he won- 
dered, that he had not heard Irom them, and that they had 
not evinced the least interest in Helene’s condition, because 
neither of them had been there to make any inquiries about 
her. He now sent for the colonel. 

The latter was not aware of the turn of events, as far as 
Junker was concerned. The note which he received on 
the day of the parade was very enigmatical, and failed to 
enlighten him as to what was really wanted of the young 
man. He believed, however, that Lady von Cannstatt was 
dead, and when he dispatched the young soldier so prompt- 
ly on his way, it was done in a spirit of fiendish satisfaction, 
because the thought of the young man’s sorrow and dis- 
appointment at the end of his ride afforded Wuesthoff ex- 
treme pleasure. It never occurred to him that Helene was 
his wife’s sister, and that she might probably be affected by 


86 


her death. Had he surmised the true state of affairs, it is 
doubtful whether he would have permitted the soldier to 
leave the ranks during parade. 

The astonishment depicted upon Wuesthoff’s counte- 
nance, after he had been informed by his father-in-law of 
the change, which had taken place in the relationship be- 
tween himself and Junker, is easier imagined, than described. 
He threw up his hands and his face bore a look of holy 
horror. 

“Good gracious general, and is it possible for you to 
tolerate the presumptiousness of such a fellow and allow 
him to pay his addresses to your own daughter ?” 

“Yes, colonel I have changed my mind about this 
young man, and to tell you the truth I am proud of having 
him as my future son in-law.” 

“Well, by all that is monstrous, I am perfectly as- 
tounded. I cannot believe it. I must be deaf, or I have 
taken leave of my power of understanding, or else, pardon 
me general, you must be mad.” 

“No, I am not so any longer ; but I was, when I with- 
held my consent for Helene to love this young man, and 
hazarded the life and happiness of my child, then I think I 
was mad.”. 

“You simply amaze me. It is absolutely incredible. 
I — I cannot fathom it. A von Cannstatt to hold a young 
farmer, a common clown, worthy of making love to his 
daughter.” 

“Yes, it is true, a von Cannstatt has done such a thing 
and what is more, he does not regret it.” 

“Still you may.” 

“That the future will disclose. As far as such a prob- 
ability is concerned, however, its chances would not be les- 
sened were the young man of aristocratic descent.” 

“Come, come now, general you do not mean to level 
such an insinuation at me ?” 

“No. no, my dear fellow, it never occurred to me, but 
now I happen to think of it, the cap fits you to a nicety.” 

“Have I not made a good husband to your daughter.” 

“Certainly as husbands go now a days. For a marriage 
that was determined upon without the consultation of either 
the wishes of yourself or my daughter it turned out as well 
as most marriages of that sort do. When your father and 
I arranged the match, however, we hoped for better results. 


8 ; 


We were disappointed as you know, because you and Hor- 
tense are not what one would call a happily mated pair, are 
you ?” 

“But that is not my fault.” 

“Not altogether, yet still you are as much at fault as 
she is. Pah, I do not care about thrashing old straw. 
Listen to me : I am well aware, that I am committing a 
great breach of etiquette in permitting this attachment be- 
tween Helene and Karl Junker. I am departing from the 
customs and traditions of my family in countenancing a 
commoner, a son of the people, as a lover of my daughter. 
The nobility will point the finger of scorn at me and call 
me a renegade. My approval will be branded as a disgrace, 
an insult to aristocracy and a blot upon my escutcheon. 
I shall henceforth be stigmatized and ostracised from the 
distinguished circle of high class society ; but I am willing 
to bear it all, for I know that I have saved a budding rose 
from wilting before it bloomed, I have stemmed the tide of 
death on the brink of an untimely grave ; in fact I have 
saved my child’s life, who has been the sunshine of my de- 
clining days, and in whom has been concentrated whatever 
happiness I have had for many years.” 

“Pah ! that is a very exaggerated view of the situation. 
Do you mean to have me infer Helene would have died, if 
you had not sent for this fellow and thereby giving your 
consent to her mad infatuation.” 

“Infatuation is not an appropriate term to be used in 
connection with Helene. She is not the kind of girl to be- 
come infatuated ; but this I do know, she would have died 
had I not forgiven her and refused to send for Junker.” 

“Well, if I could have surmised that from the contents 
of your note, he should not have left the parade thi ” 

“Stop! Wuesthoff, you are forgetting yourself. Would 
you have disobeyed the order of your general and would 
you kill your wife’s sister. What do you know againt this 
young man ?” 

“Nothing, but I hate him with a deadly hatred. Mark 
you, that fellow shall never marry Helene so sure as I am a 
living man. I detest and despite the low-born rascal, who 
carries his head like a duke and affects the manners of a 
gentleman. You are now blinded by the false notion that 
it was necessary to recognize this' fellow as her lover, in 
order to save Helene’s life. It is an absurd mistake to allow 


88 


your gratitude to be carried to excess. Believe me she would 
not have died, anyhow. Girls do not die of love, and no gent le 
woman would die, because she was not allowed to love a 
common farmer. But it shall never be. Of course, while 
Helene is so very ill, there is no need to interfere. I have 
a plan and its effectiveness is infallible. Let me tell you. 

We will assume for the present, that we are all satisfied 
with the affair. We have in fact reconciled ourselves to the 
idea of having a farmer’s son become the honored member 
of our family. But when Helene’s health is restored, the 
fellow will have to be disposed of.” 

•‘What in this world do you mean ?” the general inter- 
rupted him aghast with astonishment. 

“Hm, is there not a likelihood of an accident to happen 
to anybody and at any time ?” 

“I do not understand you.” 

•‘Yet it is very simple I assure you. I have the plan, * 
and I will see that it is executed without the least suspicion, 
who was at the bottom of it. Good heavens, a chap from 
the herd of peasants to marry a von Cannstatt, why it is 
monstrous. However, I am here, and I shall prevent it to 
save the honor of your noble name.” 

“There is a hidden meaning in all this talk of yours, 
Wuesthoff, and I must demand an explanation.” 

“Non at all necessary, the whole thing will explain itself. 
Well, I must be off ; please convey my best wishes to 
Helene for her speedy recovery.” With these words the 
colonel hurried away without giving the general a further 
opportunity to ask him any more questions. In the hall 
he passed Junker without taking the least notice of the 
young man. 

“I will take care of you my fine rascal,” Wuesthoff 
murmured to himself as he left the house. “A Wuesthofif’s 
hatred is like the hunger of a lion and only blood can ap- 
pease its rancor.” 


CHAPTER XVI. 

When Wuesthoff left the Cannstatt mansion his mind 
was all in a whirl. It appeared impossible for him to grasp 
the situation in its reality. That the general should "have 
given his consent to a match such as this, of a countess and 
a common fellow, passed his comprehension. 


8 9 


“And there is that countryman already comfortably 
installed as one of the family,” he snarled through his teeth, 
as he walked homeward, “and by the ruins of Troy and 
Herculaneum the fellow carries himself, as if he were born in 
the place. How he looked at me when I passed him in 
the hall, so self-possessed, so dignified, confound him. Had 
he given himself the air of insolence, had he been overbear- 
ing in his mien, arrogant in manner and affected a kind of 
swagger, such as one is wont to see in the ordinary upstart, 

I should not have been surprised. But no, the scoundrel 
looks, acts, behaves and speaks, as if the bluest of aristo- 
cratic blue blood ran through his system. Oh, it is per- 
fectly exasperating to think that such an imposter, which 
no doubt he must be, should have been able to hoodwink 
an experienced old soldier like my father-in-law. How- 
ever, that makes my revenge all the more urgent. Even, 
if I did not hate the fellow for what he knows about me, 
even if I had not sworn to kill him to satisfy the personal 
grudge I entertain for him, I have to do it now to prevent 
the taking place of this proposed mesalliance. The con- 
summation of that intended marriage would be a blot upon 
the entire German aristocracy ! But how am I to get him 
out of the way, that is the question ?” The colonel stood 
still to give the current of his thoughts full sway. His 
brows were contracted, his gaze was riveted to the ground, 
his teeth were vigorously gnawing away at the ends of his 
mustachios, while he pushed his hands deep into the pock- 
ets of his cloak. Suddenly he looked up with his eyes 
staring, as if he expected the subject of his thoughts before 
him. 

“By the heavenly Diana, I have got it! To be sure, 
yes, what a delicious inspiration ! Schinner, he is my man. 
Curious I did not think of him sooner. There isn’t any- 
thing in the annals of crime which he would have scruples 
enough to shrink from, when I threaten him with dispos- 
session of the house he lives in. That fellow is inordinately 
fond of his wife and his ‘brats,’ and when I work his affec- 
tion for his family he will come to time. What a grand plan. 
I will send for him immediately.” 

During Junker’s stay in the Cannstatt mansion he had 
a couple of unexpected but not unwelcome visitors. They 
were, it will not be surprising to hear, Frederic and Phillip, 
his two friends. When a servant made the announcement 


9 o 


of their arrival to Junker, he was so astonished that for a 
moment he was at a loss what to say or what to do with 
them. Not that he was ashamed of his friends ; on the con- 
trary, he was anxious to see them. Had he been anywhere 
else he would have run to the door to meet them, as if they 
were his brothers coming back to him after a long absence. 
But here it was different. He was receiving the hospitality 
of a stranger and an aristocrat, and he wondered how the 
general would look upon these visitors. He determined to 
find out by telling Herr von Cannstatt all about it. 

“If he objects to them coming in here, I shall go out to 
them.” Then he walked into the library, where he found 
the general sipping a cup of coffee and smoking his first 
long pipe of the morning. 

“Herr von Cannstatt, two of my companions in the army 
have come to call upon me; have you any objections to my 
receiving them in your house?” 

The general was too polite to hesitate with his answer 
for even a moment. 

“Certainly not, Junker ; your friends are always wel- 
come here !” but while the young man expressed his thanks 
and gratification, the general seemed to lapse into medita- 
tion, and when Karl was about to leave the room, von Cann- 
statt said : 

“Have you many barrack friends, who are likely to 
pay you a visit ?” 

Junker noticed the look of anxiety on the old gentle- 
man’s countenance, and he could not help being amused. 

“No, general,” he replied, “I have not. These two I 
have known since childhood ; they are neighbors of mine. 
All three of us entered the army together, and as their time 
of service terminated with mine, I presume they are about 
to leave for home, and they desire to find out whether I am 
going with them.” 

“Ah, yes, I understand. Well, have them come in and 
entertain them, as if you received them in your own home. 
Give your orders to the servants for anything they might 
want. Would you like me to go and bid them welcome ?” 

“Thank you, general, I appreciate your kindness, but 
do not trouble yourself.” 

When Junker met his friends, their faces wire ideal pic- 
tures of surprise and astonishment. 

“By my sergeant’s stripes !” was the greeting Phillip 


9i 


gave him, “but you have made a very fine exchange of 
quarters.” 

“Yes,” added Frederick, “from the barracks to the pal- 
ace is certainly quite a jump.” 

The two young fellows were evidently pleased with 
their friend’s good fortune, and congratulations flowed from 
their lips in the most voluble manner. 

“To say we are glad,” remarked Phillip, “is not doing 
justice to our real feelings, but we are, and there is no one 
in this wide world whom we think more deserving of becom- 
ing this grand young lady’s husband, than you are.” 

“Are you not a little premature in your surmises? 
Your feelings of delight must be carrying you away too 
far.” 

“Now, do not be offended with us for talking so freely 
on a subject sacred to you,” answered Frederick, “but we 
have been such close friends all our lives — there never were 
any secrets between us, you know, — and our hearts are so 
full of joy on account of your evident good fortune, that we 
cannot constrain ourselves, we must give vent to our feel- 
ings somehow.” 

“Don’t apologize, boys, I am not offended, in fact I am 
now so happy, I have no right to be displeased with any 
one. The world was never so radiant to me, life never 
looked so hopeful, yet this wonderful good fortune still sits 
so new upon me, it is like a dream. I hesitate sometimes 
to think or speak of it, for fear that I might awake to find it 
a myth.” 

“H’m, there never was a more realistic dream in my 
life,” remarked Phillip. 

“By the way, have you seen the colonel, and what does 
he say ?” asked the other. 

“Yes, I did see him, but he did not speak to me.” 

“Well, it is not difficult to guess what he would say ; 
he had never a good opinion of anything or anybody.” 

“Mark my word, Karl, there is a man who will cause 
you a great deal of trouble yet, and, if you take my advice, 
you will beware of him.” 

“It is a habit he has of hating everybody but himself.” 

If there is any truth in the old superstition, the colo- 
nel’s ears must have burned pretty well during this conver- 
sation. Junker at last changed the subject. He asked them 
when they were going home. 


9 2 


“We are on our way now, but for how long we cannot 
tell ; we may have to come back at any time.” 

“How is that ?” 

“Look in your papers, and you will see for yourself. 
The captain told us we were let off because affairs have been 
rather quiet of late, and things look now as if the mobiliza- 
tion is about to be abandoned. Still, the chances of a war 
with France are always probable, and of course in such an 
event we would be the first to be called upon.” 

“What a terrible idea it is,” sighed Junker, “that civil- 
ized countries can not arrange their differences except at 
the expense of bloodshed.” 

“It is dreadful, no doubt,” said Phillip, “but it has been 
the way of the world for so long, I am afraid it is too late 
for a change now.” 

“Not at all,” interposed Karl, “in fact, I believe we are 
nearer the era of universal peace than ever.” 

This discussion was interrupted by a servant, who ent- 
ered the room with a tray of very appetizing delicacies. 
The young men sat down and accepted Junker’s invitation 
to enjoy themselves in a manner unique with the German 
soldier, who has been regaled on barrack fare for three 
years. They stayed with their friend for several hours. 

“We must go now, the boat is ready to take us down 
the Rhine,” at last intimated Frederick, looking at his watch, 
“but before we part, Karl, I want you to make the promise 
to let us know when you are coming home, in order that we 
may meet you at The Golden Swan. From there we want 
to accompany you into the village.” 

“I will do that with pleasure.” 

Then the two, after giving their friend a few vigorous 
handshakes, left, and Junker turned back into the house, 
waving his last adieus from the doorstep. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

Fraeulein von Cannstatt was now rapidly convalescing. 
Karl and the general both went to see her every day. in 
less than a week, the young lady, propped up with pillows 
in a rocking chair in her room, was able to receive her two 
visitors. P'or the lovers, this was quite an idyllic period of 
their courtship. After a while they began speculating as to 
the number of hours that would yet have to elapse before it 


93 


might be considered advisable to have the patient come 
downstairs. Dr. Hansen, now that he was confident Helene 
would soon be quite well again, did everything consistent 
with care and reason to make the stay in her room as agree- 
able as possble. He conducted his treatment of the case by 
allowing nature to take her own course, and whenever the 
young lady expressed a particular desire for any one thing, 
the doctor ordered it to be obtained for her, if possible. At 
last, all visible traces of the terrible sufferings Helene had 
gone through, seemed to have left her, and when she spoke 
to the physician of her desire to go downstairs, he gave his 
consent without hesitation. The old general watched her 
as she came walking down the stairs, leaning on the arm of 
Junker, and the sight made him feel as happy as a child that 
has found a long lost treasure. For days after this, Herr 
von Cannstatt would quietly steal into the room where the 
two lovers were sitting, and while he looked at them in 
deep contemplation, his eyes would light up with brightness 
and his face take on a glow of delightful pride, which spoke 
volumes as to the satisfaction he felt in his heart. And when 
he beheld the handsome, quiet, noble looking form of the 
young man, a smile stole over his countenance, which said 
plainly: ‘T might have waited a long time for an aristocratic 
son-in-law equal to this peasant lad.” 

The path of love for the two young people seemed now 
to be covered with nothing but roses, and the future could 
not have looked brighter for them. What was more natu- 
ral, therefore, than the wish for a speedy consummation of 
their wedding ? This suggestion was not only deemed ad- 
visable by sentimental reasons of their own, but the 
general prompted it himself. The dear old gentleman still 
felt the qualms of conscience, which told him that he had 
wronged these two with his harshness, and he constantly 
endeavored to make reparation for the undeserved pain he 
thought he had caused them. In addition, he had also grown 
immeasurably fond of Junker. During Helene’s convales- 
cence Karl had proved himself in many ways very useful to 
the lonesome old man. He read to him, talked to him, 
played cards and chess with him, and he even succeeded in 
inducing him to a game at billiards. The general had an 
excellent table in his house, but which had not been used 
for many years. Herr von Cannstatt was passionately de- 
voted to the pastime, or at least, he had been so in his 


94 


youth, and he flattered himself to be quite a manipulator of 
the cue and ivories. In Junker he found quite an adept and 
opponent, who could hold him even. The result was that 
their contests were usually very interesting and productive 
of a great deal of amusement, especially to the elder man. 
In this way the young fellow had become quite indispensa- 
ble to the general, and he had become more than reconciled 
to the idea of his daughter marrying a man from the people. 
He realized their love as honest, genuine, all-absorbing, and 
he recognized therein a premonition of a life of happiness 
for his daughter. In evolving the idea of a speedy marriage 
for the two, the old gentleman was also actuated by the least 
bit of selfishness, because he included resignation from act- 
ive service for himself, and retirement to one of his castles 
in the "Black Forest” with his children. To carry this ar- 
rangement out, the general startled the two lovers one day 
by saying, in his own blunt soldier fashion : 

“It appears to me that your cooing like a pair of turtle 
doves has been going on long enough, and it might be just 
as well to end this lovemaking by getting married.” 

Helene blushed to the roots of her hair, and Karl was 
too much surprised to be ready for a reply. 

“Yes, I mean what I say,” continued the general, “you 
can have my consent, if you want to get married tomorrow.” 
Both remained speechless, and Herr von Cannstatt left 
them, wisely concluding, that he had better allow the dis- 
cussion of his announcement to be carried on without him. 

“Helene, what have you to say about this?” was 
Junker’s question as soon as the general was out of earshot. 

“I fear papa is inclined to precipitate matters, “replied 
the young lady with a smile. 

“But I coincide with his views exactly.” 

“You do ? Really you surprise me, and what is your 
reason for such haste?” 

“A very natural one, I can assure you.” 

“And will you tell me, dear Karl ?” 

“Because I love you, darling.” 

“But I love you too, and so well, that I would ask for 
nothing more, than to live like this, and have you near me 
always.” 

“Ah, I know, sweetheart, but to make you wholly mine, 
irrevocably, inseparably for ever, we must get married, it is 
the culmination of love, and therefore, I pray you let me 


95 


second your father’s wish.” 

“Very well, as you both desire it, and as it is the 
pleasure of my life to always please you both, I will say : 
One month from to-day.” 

“Thank you, darling, you have made me the happiest 
man on earth,” said Junker, taking Helene in his arms and 
kissing her again and again. 

The two walked out of the room hand in hand to search 
for the general, and when they informed him of Helene’s 
decision, he expressed himself greatly delighted. Later 
when the two men were alone the general imparted to Junker 
his plans. 

“You are a lawyer by profession, and I am glad of it, 
because when you are married I shall have a great deal of 
work for you.” 

“And how is that ?” asked the young man. 

“I own several estates, which are scattered over the 
country, and the affairs of all of them have been entrusted 
to agents, who allowed them to greatly deteriorate in value. 
Now, I should like you to look into this, because I notice 
you are a man of business, and I am not. You can make 
yourself invaluable to me besides gain for yourself an excel- 
lent position.” 

“You must give me time to consider that proposition,” 
replied Karl. “It was my intention to practice my profession 
in Cologne as soon as I had left the army.” 

“Yes, yes,” the old general interrupted him impatiently, 
“but when you made those plans, you had no idea of marry- 
ing my daughter, and now that circumstances have changed 
I think you will have to change your plans as well. It 
seems to me that a man’s knowledge should always be at 
the command of his friends first, and when I give you my 
daughter, you ought to do something for me in return.” 

“Herr von Cannstatt, your generosity overwhelms me. 
I can divine the reason, which prompts you to this offer, 
and I beg you to believe me, I shall do my utmost to merit 
the confidence you place in me. Here is my hand, what- 
ever you may command I shall endeavor to fulfill to the 
best of my ability.” 

“That is settled then, when you are married you be- 
come my legal representative and the manager of my affairs. 
And you had better do your work well or I shall call you 
to account.” There was a merry twinkle in his eyes, as the 


9 6 


general said this, and a smile around his lips, which showed 
he was well pleased with the arrangement. 

“Very well, sir, I shall do my best to prove myself 
worthy of your confidence.” 

“Why Junker I know you will, or my daughter would 
not love you.” 

It was then arranged that Karl was to go to his home 
and stay with his parents until the wedding day, in order to 
give Helene ample time of preparation for such occupations 
as usually engage the attention of young ladies about to 
marry. 

The day for Junker’s departure had arrived. He was 
going to Cologne by boat up the Rhine, and from there to 
his destination in a stage coach, the railroad accomodations 
at that time being yet very imperfect. 

When the boat was about to push off from the wharf 
there was quite an assemblage gathered to wish the young 
man bon voyage. Beside the general and Helene, the colo- 
nel and Lady von Wuesthoff were present. The latter had 
been with difficulty prevailed upon to condescend to this 
“degradation,” as she called it, but a peremptory : “I desire 
you to go for reasons of my own,” from the colonel induced 
her to attend. Lady Helene wished Karl an affectionate 
adieu, but if anyone expected a scene they were disappointed. 
Though her heart was sore, she controlled herself, in order, 
to make the separation easier for Karl. 

At last the boat’s whistle blew as a signal for its de- 
parture. Junker stood on the gang plank to go aboard 
when the colonel detained him for a moment. 

“By the way, Junker,” he remarked, “when ‘he’ gets 
home, I shall be glad, if ‘he’ will let me know of his safe 
arrival.” 

These words were accompanied by such a sickly at- 
tempt at smiling on the part of Wuesthoff, that showed 
they had a hidden meaning; but Junker affected not to 
notice this. 

“All right, colonel,” he replied. In the next minute 
he was aboard, and the boat started to steam gracefully 
down the river. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

It was not until Helene returned home, that she gave 
way to the grief of parting from her lover ; but then she 


97 


could not retain her self possession any longer. The gates 
of sorrow opened into a vale of tears. She did not attempt 
to combat this display of weakness, and she felt the better 
for a good cry, which with her, as it usually does with wo- 
men, acted as a sort of safety valve, affording considerable 
relief. Gradually the tears subsided, she grew quieter, and 
her feelings resolved themselves into a quiet, calm, a sub- 
lime resignation. 

“I will fret no more, he has gone away only to return 
again, in order that we may never part lor evermore.” In 
this thought she sought and found consolation. 

But she was not the only person in the Cannstatt 
household, who missed the presence of the pleasant young 
man. Everybody was sorry for Karl’s departure, and the 
general especially began already to look anxiously forward 
to Junker’s return, before he had gone many hours. 

Lady von Cannstatt by way of diverting her mind, im- 
mediately sent for dressmakers and milliners for the pur- 
pose of commencing the making of her various wedding 
gowns, and on the following day the “rough edge” of her 
grief was smoothed into a partial forgetfulness by selecting 
the material for her trousseau. 

Messengers were dispatched to Frankfort on the Main 
to bring the best dressmaker that could be found. Junker 
had hardly reached his destination, when his lady love was 
already in the hands of a first-class “tailleur aux dames,” 
who was bent upon making her the most beautiful looking 
bride, that ever stood before the altar in a Mayence church. 

On the following day, when, according to arrangement 
she was to receive a message of Junker’s safe arrival at his 
home, an incident occurred, which was calculated to break 
her heart and throw once more gloom over her young life. 

It happened in the afternoon, the young lady and her 
father were chatting very pleasantly about Helene’s ap- 
proaching wedding day. Fraeulein von Cannstatt suddenly 
remarked she had not yet received a message from Karl. 
“It seems strange,” she said, “he has not sent me a dis- 
patch.” 

“Oh, I do not know, perhaps some trivial delay,” re- 
plied the general, “and then this new fangled affair, the tele- 
graph, is a very unreliable system anyhow. You need not 
feel alarmed. The young fellow is all right. I never saw 
anyone better capable of taking care of himself. Like all 


9 8 

girls in love you are a little over anxious my dear child, 
you” 

There was a knock at the door and a servant announced 
“Colonel von Wuesthoff,” who, immediately following the 
lackey, entered the apartment. 

“Welcome, colonel, what brings you here, it is not 
often these walls have harbored you of late.” 

This was the way the old nobleman greeted his son- 
in-law, as he got up and shook hands with him. 

“Hm, I did not think, that I was particularly wanted 
here, while ‘the Apollo of the Barracks’ was your guest.” 

“I do not know, why you should say that, when you did 
not come here to find out. However, if you have made 
your appearance only for the purpose of exhibiting an un- 
called for sarcasm, it is a pity you did not stay away a little 
longer,” icily replied the general. 

“I can assure you I did not come of my own inclinat- 
ion even now, but because I am compelled to be the bearer 
of intelligence, which may be of interest to you both.” 

“Something of interest to us both,” echoed Helene, 
then jumping from the feauteuil, she ran towards the colonel, 
crying. 

“Then it is something about Karl. Tell me for pity’s 
sake what is it, do not keep me in suspense?” 

“I would prefer to speak to your father first, and he 
can impart the matter to you if he chooses.” 

“Good heavens, and does your information, if it is 
about him, concern anyone more, than myself. Ah, why 
will you persist to torture me so, have you no mercy, no 
feeling for anyone, is he ill ?” 

“No. I do not think he is ill, but there, — I do not 
want to discuss this with you; if you will be kind enough 
to withdraw, I shall tell your father all.” 

“I will not move from here until I have heard what 
you have to say. It is, I can see, some base insinuation, 
some slander against him.” 

“Nothing of the kind, dear Helene, you are simply 
jumping at conclusions,” rejoined the colonel with a con- 
temptuous smile on his lips, “but if you will not leave us,” 
turning to the general, “I propose we leave her, the sub- 
ject is one, which should be broached gently to her.” 

Herr von Cannstatt was in a dilemma. Had he been 
cognizant of the errand on which his son-in-law came he 


99 


might have easily determined what to advise. While he 
was yet considering as to how he ought to influence his 
daughter, she said: 

“I shall not allow you to say anything about Karl 
without my being present to defend him. I am not a child 
any longer. I am a .woman and the affianced bride of the 
man, whom you have come to villify because you hate him, 
though why I do not know. 

“My dear Heine, you do not know what you are 
saying, I am sorry for you, but you cannot have the least 
idea as to what I am here for, or you would not attack me 
in this manner. Many a man -with a mission like mine 
would shrink from the task of performing it, but I consider 
it my duty. Didn’t you hear me just now stating the news 
ought to be broached gently to you?” 

The colonel uttered these words, as if he enjoyed the 
spectacle of tantalizing the young lady with his mystery, 
nor did he betray the least seriousness. This caused the 
general to end the affair in this way. 

“Well, since Helene desires to hear the news about 
Junker, and since I believe, that she has the best right to 
hear what is said regarding him, please let us know.” 

“I have received a telegraphic message containing news 
from him.” 

“Is it a message referring to his health ?” 

“Yes, but I would prefer not to say anymore, the con- 
sequences be on your head, if you insist further, general.” 

Helene, who had been thoughtfully watching the 
colonel, suddenly interrupted him. 

“I understand it all now,” she remarked. “You have 
come with some horrible story by which you hope to 
effect a termination of my engagement with Junker. I 
know you have not a scintilla of feeling of compassion for any - 
body, and it has been your aim ever since you have known 
of our love to frustrate this marriage between Karl and 
myself. Now that you see yourself foiled you have come 
to play your last trump. It is mean and contemptible and 
no one but yourself would resort to such tricks. However, 
whatever you may say I feel it cannot be the truth.” 

Again that sardonic sneer appeared on Wuesthofif’s 
lips, as he replied. 

“Very well, since you will not believe me anyhow, it 
cannot matter to you what I do say. I have a message, 


100 


received an hour ago, saying, that Karl Junker died, while 
on his way home.” 

“It was a cruel blow, and it struck home.” With a 
cry that seemed to tear Helene’s heart, she fell back into 
the arms of her father. The old man, himself overcome by 
this information gently laid his daughter upon a sofa and 
kneeling beside her he cried, as if his own heart were 
breaking too. 

Von Wuesthoff stood there with a ghastly, fiendish 
grin on his countenance, from which it seemed evident he 
relished the effect his words had produced. He made 
not the least effort to come to the assistance of the gen- 
eral, who did what he could to revive Helene from the 
shock her nerves had received by the unexpected news 
about him she loved. The colonel, as if satisfied with the 
work he had accomplished, at last turned around and left 
the apartment In the hall he told the servant to go into 
the room. Then Wuesthoffleft the house, and as the heavy 
door closed behind him, he indulged in a little soliloquy. 

“How she defied me, the young vixen, and would not 
believe anything I might say. Hah, hah, but she did be- 
lieve me after all. There is no doubt, though, that girl 
loves this fellow almost to distraction. What a pity it is, 
to be sure; she has enough beauty and spirit to turn any- 
body’s head. And if I did not love her myself I might be 
satisfied to see her marry some one else. But this peasant 
chap! No! I would have shot him at the altar, sooner 
than permit it. However, I daresay it is all over now. 
They will find out in a day or so that he is dead. Then 
there will be a few weeks’ mourning, and after that my 
beautiful Helene will have forgotten all about her handsome 
young Adonis. Well, I have achieved my object. I have 
saved her from disgracing herself, her name and her family.” 

Helene had in the meantime recovered from the first 
effects the sudden revelation had upon her, and under the 
efforts at consolation made by her father she gradually re- 
gained her former calmness. When she observed that the 
colonel had disappeared a sigh of relief escaped her. 

“Thank goodness,” she whispered, “he has gone.” 
Noticing the servant she motioned him out of the room. 
Alone with her father, she put her arms around him and 
kissed his furrowed, wrinkled cheeks over and over. All at 
once she rose from the sofa and placed her hand to her 


IOI 


forehead, as if she were trying to hold a check over her 
thoughts. And why did she do this? An idea had flashed 
across her mind so wonderful, it seemed to her almost 
like an inspiration. She maintained this standing posture 
for sometime, apparently lost in deep meditation. Suddenly 
she turned around, facing her father, her eyes literally 
dancing with delight, and a tone of voice that sounded like 
th6 words of a prophetess, she exclaimed : 

“Papa, dearest, do not let us be alarmed. Every word 
Wuesthoff said was a fabrication and a falsehood. Karl 
Junker is not dead. I am positive he is not dead!” 

For a moment the old nobleman did not answer. He 
was not sure that he had heard aright. But when his 
daughter repeated her assertion, he shook his head. 

“Ah, child, you are a brave and hopeful young girl, 
but I am afraid he did tell the truth. He could not lie 
about such an awful thing as that. It would be inhuman to 
trump up such a story.” 

“Nevertheless I maintain that Karl is still alive. It is 
my positive conviction. Look at me, do you suppose I 
could stand here so quietly and discuss such a question 
without the least emotion, if I were not absolutely certain 
in my mind that Karl lives. Were his death a reality I 
would feel it in my heart by instinct, by intuition; but I do 
not harbor the least dread or fear. What induced Wuest- 
hoff to come here and tell us such a horrible thing is more 
than I can say. Still, I know he did not tell the truth.” 

The general looked at his daughter in amazement. 
Had she lost her reason ? To him there was no doubt as 
to the correctness of Wuesthoff ’s announcement. Junker 
was dead. It was sad and he was grieved beyond expres- 
sion. What object could his son-in law have in concocting 
such an awful fabrication ? None at all. Helene’s behavior 
puzzled him, and the emphatic manner in which she as- 
serted that Junker had not di£d; in fact, was still alive, be- 
wildered him. While he was yet brooding over it, Helene 
burst out : 

“Papa, dear, I have a great favor to ask, will you grant 

it?” 

“Whatever it is child, I will do it, if I can.” 

“Thank you, papa, I know you can. Let us quietly 
leave Mayence at once, without apprising anyone where we 
are going. Then let us take the boat down the Rhine and 


102 


go to Karl’s home. I dare say you will think my idea an ex- 
traordinary one, but I am so thorougly imbued with the 
feeling that he is alive and well, I want to take you to him 
and prove the correctness of my assertion.” 

“Very well, Helene, although I cannot share your 
belief, still I hope and pray that you are right. I am ready 
to go whenever you are.” 

Preparations for the journey were quickly completed 
and in a very short time General and Lady von Cannstatt 
were on their way to Winterthal in the “Bergische Lande,” 
the home of Karl Junker. 

CHAPTER XIX. 

A steam boat ride on the Rhine from Mayence to Col- 
ogne is one of the most delightful trips anyone can desire. It 
is one of the events of one’s life time, the pleasure of which 
will never be forgotten, and the beauties of nature will 
leave an impression on one’s mind which time cannot 
efface. 

There are many beautiful rivers in the world, there are 
numbers of them, the banks of which are garlanded with 
miles upon miles of picturesque, romantic scenery; but after 
all there is but one Rhine. Apart from the mountains, the 
gorgeous forests, the ever-varying panorama of idyllic 
grandeur, virginal wildness of glens, ridges and inaccessi- 
ble cliffs, there is this unique charm about the Rhine 
scenery, over it all there hovers a mist of the mysterious, 
the supernatural in the form of legends, fables, traditions 
and fairy tales, which intensify the interest a millionfold. 

To Junker, the beauties of the passing scenery, how- 
ever, did not appeal on this occasion. As a German he 
was proud of the river. All Germans love the Rhine as an 
inseparable part of the fatherland. In fact, there could not 
be a Germany without the Rhine. Karl had made the trip 
often and often, and yet every time he found something new 
to attract and enchant him. But to-day it was different. 
He was preoccupied with the radiant picture of his bride, 
and there was no room for anything else to engage his 
thoughts. By the time the steamer had got properly 
under way he had found a secluded spot on deck, where he 
settled himself to enjoy the “bliss of meditation’s fancy,” 
He had hardly made himself comfortable in his seat, when 
someone suddenly addressed him, 


103 


“Excuse me, sir, are you bound for Cologne?” 

Junker looked up. Before him stood a person dressed 
in the garb, characteristic of the inhabitant of the “Black 
Forest.” 

“Yes,/ replied Karl, “I am going to Cologne, and 
farther even.” 

“To Wesel?” 

“Oh, no. I leave the boat at Cologne and travel from 
there by the “Post-wagen” into the “Bergische ” 

“H’m, that is singular. I am going in the same 
direction. I am a woodenware peddler, and I have been 
told the Bergische is a good market for our ware.” 

“My home is in the Bergische, and may be I can be of 
some assistance to you in disposing of your goods 
quickly.” 

“You are very kind, sir, but I thank you, I have a 
friend living on the highway between Cologne and Dues- 
seldorf to whom I am going, and I expect he will put me 
in the way to sell my ware.” 

“That is nice. Well, my destination leads me for quite 
a distance over your road, hence we shall be traveling com- 
panions.” 

“Yes, that we shall. I am very glad to have met you, 
sir, and I hope you will excuse me for having accosted 
you, because I fear I interrupted some very pleasant 
thoughts when I addressed you.” 

Junker was astonished. He did not know until now, 
that the evidences of his thoughts were so plainly visible 
on his couutenance, that even a Black Forest woodenware 
peddler might read them. 

“Oh, no apology is necessary, he replied, “those 
thoughts will keep. They will recur to me again.” 

But the other did not seem to care for staying any 
longer in the young man’s society. “I will see you again, 
when we leave the boat in Cologne,” he remarked, as he, 
walked down the steps to the salon. 

Ths steamer reached the “City of smells” in due time 
and without any accident. Junker had forgotten all about 
his new acquaintance, and he strode towards the landing 
not paying the least attention to anybody. The peddler 
however, appeared to have been possessed of a better 
memory, for at the same moment Karl stepped ashore the 
other with his basket on his back, was alongside of him. 


104 


“Well, sir, here we are,” he said, “and as I am not 
familiar with the locality about the wharf, or where our 
“Post wagen” starts from, perhaps you will not mind if I 
follow you?” 

“Ah, yes, it is you, to be sure, I am sorry that I had 
forgotten, but come along, we shall not have far to go.” 

They soon arrived at the “Gasthof zum Rheingau.” 
As the coach was scheduled to make connections with the 
Rhine boat, the travelers were not kept waiting. It was 
now four o’clock in the morning and the “Post” ready to 
depart any minute. Junker and his recently found travel- 
ing companion deposited their luggage with the driver. By 
the time the postilion had blown his horn and cracked his 
whip to signal the horses to go ahead, the passengers, of 
whom six occupied the inside of the coach, were all snugly 
seated and resigned to their journey over the “Landstrasse.” 

The “Post” was due at the “Golden Swan” at eight 
o’clock in the morning. Junker had written when he might 
be expected, and he was now anxiously looking forward to 
the end of his ride, because he felt sure his two friends, 
Frederick and Philip, would be there to receive him. The 
ride was awfully tiresome. The coach was not particularly 
comfortable, the travelers were all too tired to talk, albeit 
they could not go to sleep in such a ramshakle conveyance 
as this “express wagen” of the “Koenigliche Preussische 
Postamt.” The man from the Black Forest appeared to be 
the least inconvenienced by the trying accommodations of 
the vehicle, and he was seemingly soon asleep. Karl* 
however, remained awake. Now that he was so near his 
home, his anxiety to see his parents, the scenes of his boy- 
hood days and all his friends, made him restless. When 
the morning dawned over the landscape, and he looked 
through the little glass panes, which served as windows to 
the wagon, he was delighted to recognize the familiar sur- 
roundings, indicating that he would soon be within the 
boundaries of his native heath. Almost every tree, bush 
and house recalled to his mind some incident of his youth, 
and he had fallen into a kind of drowsy reverie of his boy- 
hood recollections, when suddenly the red shingles on the 
roof of the “Golden Swan” shone in the morning sun 
through the trees. The coach gave a lurch to one side, the 
sound of the postilion’s horn re-echoed in crackling tones 
from the adjoining hills, a voice hollowed: “Hea, hea,” the 


io5 


horses stopped, the door of the wagon was pulled wide 
open and there stood Frederic and Phillip, who with an ex- 
pectant stare looked around for their friend. 

“Well, Karl, here you are, welcome old fellow, glad to 
see you again. No use asking you how you are, you look 
the picture of health.” These were the greetings uttered 
by both at the same time, after they had recognized him 
and almost literally dragged him out of the vehicle in their 
eagerness to shake him by the hand. 

“Yes, I am all right, but tired and hungry. How is 
mother, father, and everybody else in the village?” 

“Just as you left them. Nobody has been sick in 
Winterthal for the last ten years, and the only person who 
died was Dr. Pillendreher. He, poor fellow, succumbed to a 
broken heart and in positive disgust, because the people 
were not condescending enough to give him a chance to 
make a living.” 

While the young men were exchanging these pleasant- 
ries and alleged jokes all the other passengers looked at 
the trio in mute astonishment, but the face of the man from 
the Black Forest bore a different aspect. He seemed to be 
disturbed about something and a far away stare came into 
his eyes as he saw the two fellows talking to his erstwhile 
traveling companion. There was something on his mind, 
which seemed to cause him a great deal of trouble. 

The “Post” stopped at the “Golden Swan” to change 
horses and give the passengers time for breakfast. Junker, 
who had not eaten anything since leaving Mayence, de- 
cided to test the culinary ability of the cook at the “Swan” 
himself, before completing his journey, a walk of about half 
an hour off the “Landstrasse.” 

Fredric and Phillip had anticipated their friend, how- 
ever, in the matter of breakfast, and when he walked into 
the hostelry he was directed to a private room, where a 
table invitingly awaited him. Suddenly he remembered 
his friend from the boat. 

“By the way, boys,” he said, turning to his comrades 
“I made the acquaintance of a peddler from the Black Forest 
coming down on the boat from Bingen. He seems a nice 
fellow, and if you have no objection I should like to invite 
him in to breakfast.” 

“No, of course not, although one would hardly expect 
the future husband of the Lady von Cannstatt making 


io6 


friends with Black Forest peddlers,” laughingly remarked 
Phillip. 

“I do not see why that should make any difference. 
However, let me call the man to come in.” 

Phillip found the peddler in the barroom, and when he 
was informed of the wish expressed by Karl, he accepted 
the invitation with a readiness, which indicated he must 
have expected it. 

“Sit down and do justice to the cook of the ‘Golden 
Swan,’ ” said Junker, offering the man a chair, “you will 
find here a breakfast as good, if not better, than you can 
get anywhere in these parts.” 

While Fredric and Phillip walked around the room and 
made themselves busy with their friend’s baggage the two 
traveling companions partook of the broiled steak and the 
fried potatoes with evident relish. There was very little 
said by either. Junker attempted several times to draw his 
guest into a conversation, but the peddler appeared to be 
preoccupied. His eyes were constantly wandering around 
the room, now dwelling upon Karl or else following the 
movements of the two young men. All at once, Frederic 
and Philip had a moment ago stepped out of the room, 
while Junker noticing a dog under the table stooped down 
to give the animal a morsel of meat, the man from the 
Black Forest got up. With feverish haste he put his hand 
in his pocket and drew from it a small piece of paper, 
neatly folded together. Quickly he tore off one end and 
leaning across the table he emptied the contents of the 
paper into Junker’s coffee. It was all done in less time than 
it takes to tell, but yet the peddler had not been quick 
enough. Even before he had accomplished his object, the 
door opened and Frederic stood upon the threshold. The 
man at the table looked up, their eyes met. Their was an 
expression so fiendish, so diabolical in the peddler’s face, it 
involuntarily caused the young man to stand still wondering 
what it meant. Then the actions of the other again passed 
before his mind as in review and he understood it all. In 
the meantime Karl had returned to his breakfast unmindful 
of the fact, that his guest had tampered with his coffee. 
Taking up the cup he was about to put it to his lips when 
Frederic jumped forward. With a bound he had reached 
the table, and in his attempt to prevent Junker from drink- 
ing he almost knocked the cup from his hand, 


107 


“For heavens sake, Karl, do not drink that coffee, 
this fellow has tried to poison you,” he cried. 

Junker was dumbfounded. This information struck him 
like a revelation. The peddler shook in his chair trembl- 
ing like an aspen with fear and convulsions; not a word 
came from him in refutation of the horrible accusation. At 
this moment Phillip came in. In a few words Frederic ap- 
prised him of what had occurred He bade him take 
charge of the cup and run with it as quickly as possible to 
the apothecary, who fortunately lived not far away. Phillip 
half dazed mechanically picked up the cup and ran from the 
apartment. 

Karl had in the meantime regained his self-possession. 
He did not seem to realize the seriousness of the affair 
No matter how he reasoned he could find no explanation, 
why this man should want to poison him. Hence he be- 
lieved his friend must have been mistaken. 

“What have you to say to my friend’s charge? he 
addressed the peddler. 

But the latter had also taken advantage of the last few 
minutes to shake off his too apparent excitement. 

“It is a lie, a damned lie. and I will go to the nearest 
police authority to get protection, that fellow, — pointing to 
Frederic — is crazy !” 

Frederic laughed. I am crazy, eh ? — I have no doubt 
that for your sake it would be well, if I were. However, I 
have an idea, that I never was more sane in my life, than at 
this instant, in fact I am just sane enough to insist upon 
your staying in this room until Dr. Krebs has favored us 
with the result of his analysis of that cup of coffee.” 

The three now observed a strict silence. It was too 
evident from the manner of indignation assumed by the 
peddler, the charge made against him, had more of found- 
ation in fact than he cared to admit. He took another 
precursory look around the room, glanced at the windows, 
then at the door and then at the two young men. While 
he showed it in his face that he would have been glad to 
make his exit from the apartment he was not slow in rec- 
ognizing, that any attempt at departure without the appro v- 
af of these two friends would prove futile. He determined 
to put on an air of bold defiance, kept his seat at the table 
and remarked : 

“Very well, I will stay here until your friend comes 


io8 


back with the apothecary to clear me of your silly suspic- 
ion ; but mark my word you will suffer for the wrong you 
are doing me. No man can make such infamous allegation 
against another with impunity.” 

“All responsibility is mine !” ironically replied Fred- 
eric with a wave of his hand. 

Junker sat there like a man lost in thought. Although 
incredulous at first, he was too well acquainted with his 
friend to mistake his positive manner. The latter had been 
an eyewitness of the peddler’s actions, and his accusations 
were too emphatic to be questioned. Yet withal Junker 
could not for the life of him think why he should have 
been the object of a murderous attack from this stranger 
of the Black Forest. He had never seen him until yester- 
day, and from the moment they had met, Karl had been 
kind, obliging, courteous and friendly to him. Altogether 
the affair was too singular and inexplicable. The thought 
recurred to him again that after all Fred must have been 
mistaken. He called the latter to him and whispered. 

“Had you not better let the man go ? I am sure you 
are wrong. Why should he want to poison me ? Perhaps 
he was only putting some sugar in my coffee thinking I 
had forgotten to doit myself.” 

“Sugar ?” asked the other with a smile. “Why then 
did he not take it from the bowl on the table instead of his 
pocket. I have never heard of people going about the 
country with sugar done up in small powders.” 

“But be reasonable. Why on this earth should this 
man want to kill me, I never saw him in all my life until 
yesterday.” 

“Where did you meet him?” 

“On the boat,” and then Junker related the details of 
his journey as far as the stranger was connected with 
them. “You can now see for yourself,” he concluded, 
“that my death cannot be of the least importance to him.” 

“That is all very well,” and your arguments sound 
quite plausible,” retorted Frederic, “still I will swear, I saw 
this man put something in your cup, which he knew had 
no business there. The very actions of the fellow, while he 
was doing it are the best circumstantial evidence that he 
meant to poison you. I read murder in his eye when I 
surprised him in the act.” 

“But how do you explain it ? — there is reason in all 
things.” 


109 


“That is where I am still in the dark. I am not able 
to explain his motive, but he can do that, and by heavens I 
shall not let him out of my sight until I have found out.” 

“Ah, do not be so hard on the poor devil. After all 
he has not done me any harm even if as you say, he did 
intend to poison me. You see I did not drink any of the 
stuff, so you might as well let him go.” 

“No, go he shall not. He called me a liar and no man 
ever did that without discovering in the end to be one him- 
self. I shall keep this fellow in custody until he has made 
a confession. You say the man can have no personal object 
in seeking your death, but is there not the possibility for 
him to be the tool, doing somebody elses bidding. 

“I do not think my life can be of sufficient importance 
to anyone, to pay for the hire of a murderer to take it. Still 
you have foiled this man’s attempt, hence he is harmless.” 

Still Frederic was inexorable. He refused to let the 
peddler escape before his charge had either been substanti- 
ated or contradicted by the apothecary’s analysis of the 
coffee. The two friends were still argueing this point when 
the door opened and Phillip returned, accompanied by the 
worthy Krebs. 

“Well, what is the result?” both asked simultaneously, 
while the peddler feverishly clung to the chair, his eyes on 
the apothecary, as if he were trying to penetrate his mind 
and read his thoughts before he had time to utter them. 

“There is sufficient arsenic in this cup,” slowly but 
decisevely remarked Herr Krebs, “to have killed twenty- 
five men, and hearing that you were about to drink this, 
Junker, allow me to congratulate you upon your narrow 
escape from a horrible death, while at the same time I am 
glad of the opportunity of welcoming you home again.” 

The man from the Black Forest groaned with fear 
when he heard this. His defiant manner had vanished, and 
he now represented a most pitiful personification of abject 
dread, and misery. 

“Do you hear that, you scoundrel, you called me a 
liar not long ago, may be you are willing to change your 
opinion, especially with the prospect of appearing before a 
magistrate!” exclaimed Frederic with the least bit of 
triumph in his voice. 

“Have mercy, have mercy, gentlemen, I will confess 
everything,” cried the wretched man, falling literally on his 


I IO 

knees before them all and holding up his hands implor- 
ingly. 

“That is right,” Karl addressed him. “Tell us the 
whole truth. I am almost certain you did not want to 
murder me from personal animosity, and am anxious to find 
out, who it is that wishes my death.” 

CHAPTER XX. 

“Yes, gentlemen, I will tell you all,” whimpered the 
miserable man still retaining his praying posture on the 
floor. “To begin with I must admit that I am not a peddler 
from the Black Forest, as I led you to believe. No! I am 
a resident of Mayence, have lived there the greater part of 
my life. I have never committed a crime in my life nor 
attempted to commit one until now, and I am more sorry, 
than I can tell for allowing myself to be tempted this time. 
For that reason I am delighted my plan has not been suc- 
cussful, and though I feel certain, poverty and misfortune 
will be my future lot, I shall bear it with resignation, be- 
cause I shall not have your death on my conscience. Now 
for my story. 

I am a cobbler by trade, and I have lived in Mayence 
in a little house, which with a number of others alongside of 
it, was recently purchased by Colonel von Wuesthoff, a 
nobleman with whom you are all acquainted I believe.” 

“Yes, he is unfavorably known to us,” Phillip remark- 
ed with a smile. 

“After the colonel became the owner, he sent an aget ft 
to me one day and gave me notice, that I would either 
have to pay more rent or quit the premises. This was a 
hard blow to me. I have a large family of children, and it 
is quite a task for me to earn enough at my trade to make 
a living. To find more money for rent, than I was already 
paying, I knew would be an impossibility for me. Still I 
was loath to leave the place, because by going away I 
would lose what little trade I had and have to commence 
all over again. I exposulated with the agent and told him 
the situation I was in. But he was immovable. He merely 
shrugged his shoulders and replied, that he could not help 
me. He had his orders and must obey them. I was dis- 
consolate. Starvation for myself and family stared me in 
the face, whichever way I looked. At last I bethought 


1 1 1 


myself of going to see the colonel personally. “If I ex- 
plained to him the condition of my family,” so I argued, “I 
dare say I shall move him to reconsider his decision, and 
perhaps he may let me stay where I am, without increasing his 
demands for rent. No sooner had I formed this idea, than 
I set about carrying it out. I went to the colonel’s house, 
where I was received none too graciously, but of course, 
considering his exalted position, as a nobleman. I could not 
expect anything else. When I made him acquainted with 
my errand he simply laughed in my face. 

“It is none of my business,” he said, “whether ‘he’ 
lives, or not, whether ‘he’ starves, or whether ‘his’ family 
goes to the poorhouse, or to the grave, what do I care. I 
own the house ‘he’ lives in, and ‘he’ will either have to pay 
me what I want or else get out.” 

I was dumbfounded at his callous display of heartless- 
ness. I plead and plead again to have him relent from his 
severity, but I could not say anything to make him change 
his decision. I was about to turn and leave in complete 
despair, when he called me back. 

“Does ‘he’ like the home ‘he’ lives in?” the colonel 
asked me. 

“Yes, your honor,” I replied, “I have lived there for 
25 years, all my children were born there, I was married 
in the house, and to me it is the pleasantest place in the 
world.” 

“But why did “he” not buy it ‘himself?” 

“A cobbler does not make enough money to enable 
Turn to buy houses, especially when he has a large family.” 

“I suppose ‘he’ would like to own such a house?” 

“It is the height of my ambition.” 

“Very well ‘he’ shall have the whole place, own it in 
fee simple, if ‘he’ will do as I tell ‘him.” 

This sudden announcement set my brain reeling ; my 
head felt all afire, I could scarcely believe I had understood 
him, and I said so to the colonel. 

“Yes I mean what I say. ‘He’ shall have the house, 
the garden and everything belonging to it, provided ‘he’ 
will do what I say.” 

“What is it?” I asked, “and I will do it.” 

“I have an enemy in this city,” calmly remarked 
Herr von Wuesthoff, “and I want to get him out of the 
way. I desire ‘him’ to help me in accomplishing this. 


I 12 


Acquiesce and the house is ‘his.” 

This proposition took me nearly of my feet, and the 
coolness with which he propounded the matter almost 
bereft me of my senses. 

“I see ‘he’ hesitates,” the colonel remarked, arousing 
me from my silent astonishment. ‘‘All right, ‘he’ is not 
the mam I am looking for. I shall keep my house, and 
‘he’ can go and starve with ‘his’ family as quickly as he 
chooses. 

“But colonel,” I ventured to say, when he cut my 
speech short. 

“No butting with me, ‘he’ has heard what I have offer- 
ed ‘him.’ ‘He’ either will do my bidding or else ‘he’ will 
not. In the one case I keep the house, and ‘he’, and ‘his’ 
wife and ‘his’ children can perish, while on the other hand 
the house is ‘his,’ ‘he’ pays no more rent, lives well, brings 
up his family in good circumstances, and ‘he’ will make 
‘his’ family happy, that’s all. I have nothing further to do 
with ‘him,” and with these words he she wed me the door. 

I went home, the colonel’s proposition humming in 
my ears like a hive of bees. Day and night the temptat- 
ion haunted me. In my dreams, I saw conjured before me 
the most fantastic pictures of wealth and riches. Awake, 
imagination lent such wings to my thoughts, as to almost 
drive me crazy. It was a terrible temptation to a man like 
me. I was as poor as a churchmouse, living with my wife 
and family in dire want, and constantly dreading the 
appearance of the agent to turn us out into the streets. 
Nevertheless the qualms of conscience occasionally tortur- 
ed me with the thought, ‘‘it is better to starve an honest 
man than to die a rich criminal.” Then again the voice of 
the tempter would whisper in my ears, “What does it 
matter about one human life when you save your wife and 
all your children. At such times I resolved to go and tell 
the colonel I was ready to obey his command. Occasion- 
a voice of caution would say : “Supposing you were found 
out?” and then such fears overcame me, I determined to 
die sooner than become a murderer. 

This last resolution had about gained the upperhand 
in my mind, when one day the agent of the colonel came in 
and informed me, that on the following morning I must 
vacate the premises. In case 1 refused he threatened to 
call the police to his aid. Of course you all know when it 


comes to a question of right or wrong between the nobility 
and the people the latter get always left. I listened to the 
mandate from my landlord without saying a word. So far 
I had kept the entire affair to myself, because I did not 
want to give my wife needless worry. When the agent 
had gone, however, 1 realized, 1 could not keep the im- 
pending trouble from her any longer, and I told her. If I 
had been affected by the terrible outlook for our future, my 
wife was even more so; and when I saw her mental anguish 
her tears, her prayers for her children, realizing at the same 
time, that I might change this misery into joy and happin- 
ess, — then — I sank beneath the burden of temptation. 
Picking up my hat and coat I hurried away from the house. 
For fear I might again change my mind I ran as fast as I 
could, and never stopped until I reached the colonel’s 
residence. 

“I will do all you ask me,” I burst out, and then fell 
exhausted into a chair. 

“I am delighted to notice ‘he’ has changed ‘his’ mind,” 
Herr von Wnesthoff remarked without taking the least 
notice of my emotion. “Now listen ‘he’ to me very atten- 
tively, and I shall give ‘him’ ‘his’ instructions. There is a 
young man in this city, whom I desire to have put out of 
the way. This young man’s name is Karl Junker.” 

“You appear to have a great knack in torturing your 
audience when you tell a story,” here interrupted Frederic. 
“Now we knew that this was coming, and my heart has 
been goin like a ten-day clock for the last ten minutes ex- 
pecting you to say this, but go on, you are telling a good 
story.” 

The pseudo peddler, without taking the least notice of 
this little display, continued, addressing himself to Junker 
directly: 

“The colonel pointed out to me that you were about to 
leave Mayence for your home, and that it would be a good 
idea for me to go away on the same boat, make your ac- 
quaintance; in short, attach myselfto you on the journey. I 
was particularly advised to delay the administration of the 
poison until we were about to part, for the reason that it 
would be more difficult to find me in case the deed was 
traced to me. I was to return home without delay. After 
he had given me all these instructions, I was told where I 
could find you. In fact, the colonel pointed you out to me 


one day himself as the man I was to kill. All these details 
completed, he drew up a deed of the house, made it out to 
me, and turning toward me he said : 

“ ‘Now, the compact is settled. I will keep this deed 
in my desk here, and on the day that *he,’ Nicolaus Schir- 
mer, returns to Mayence and assures me of Karl Junker’s 
death, this deed will be handed over to ‘him,’ making the 
house and lot ‘he’ lives in at present ‘his’ own property. In 
the meantime, until ‘he’ starts on ‘his’ mission, ‘he’ may stay 
there and no one shall molest ‘him.’ ’ 

“When I told my wife that I had made arrangements 
with the owner of the house by which we might remain in it, 
the dear woman cried with joy. Her delight knew no 
bounds, and I must admit this somewhat reconciled me to 
my bargain with Herr von Wuesthoff.” 

“On the day of your departure, yesterday morning, the 
colonel sent for me. He handed me this suit of clothes, 
and told me to introduce myself as a peddler from the Black 
Forest; in fact, he instructed and directed me in everything 
regarding the plans for your murder. Then he gave me 
this well-filled purse, and wishing me good luck and god- 
speed on my trip, he remarked : 

“ ‘When ‘he’ returns the deed for the house awaits 
‘him.’ ’ 

“The rest, sir, you know, because we have been to- 
gether almost constantly ever since. I will not go into the 
details of my sufferings on the journey. You have been 
extremely kind to me, and the longer I was with you the 
more difficult my task became. I was possessed by a fit of 
indecision, which at one moment urged me to fulfill my com- 
pact with the colonel, while in another minute I resolved to 
return home and brave the storm of poverty. But when 
you called me into breakfast not long ago all fears were 
suddenly allayed. The voice of conscience seemed to be 
dead. No better opportunity could I have wished in at- 
tempting to poison you, than to be sitting with you at the 
table. To me it seemed as if the finger of Providence had 
written your doom, and when I entered it was with the 
avowed determination of murdering you with this poison. 
That is all. I have no more to say. I was found out. You 
can do as you please. Whatever that will be, I deserve it 
all. My punishment cannot be too severe. God help my 
wife ahd children.” 


”5 

CHAPTER XXL 

Karl Junker, his two friends, and even the apothecary, 
were perfectly amazed at the story they had been listening 
to. Although Colonel Wuesthoff had never stood very 
high in the estimation of either of the three young men, it 
is safe to say that Junker, at all events, had not supposed 
his character could sink to the level of an assassin. As for 
this man Schirmer, Junker pitied him. For a person who 
was so fond of his wife and children, the temptation of the 
colonel was an offer which could not be easily refused. It 
was a question with him of wiping out the life of a man 
whom he did not know, and thereby preserving those of his 
own flesh and blood. Was it to be wondered at that he 
would endeavor to save them at all hazards ? It was on this 
point, in singling out for his tool a man in such circum- 
stances and the condition of Schirmer, where the dastardly 
conduct of Wuesthoff especially showed itself. Of course 
Junker deprecated all crime and even criminal intentions on 
the part of Schirmer, and though he did not want to justify 
the peddler’s action entirely, he nevertheless could not help 
thinking that his share was at least deserving of extenua- 
tion. 

“What is to be done now?’’ at last interrupted Frederic, 
breaking the silence which seemed to overhang the room 
like a funeral pall. 

Philip shrugged his shoulders, while Junker shook his 
head, but the chemical expert, an old gentleman and evi- 
dently accustomed to all phases of life, turned to the man 
from Mayence and asked him : 

“Did you have any understanding with Colonel Wuest- 
hoff that in case you were successful he was to be imme- 
diately apprised of the fact ?’’ 

“Our agreement was for me to telegraph him, if I was 
not successful, but if all went as anticipated to remain silent 
until I came home again.’’ 

“That is fortunate !’’ 

“Why?” asked Junker. 

“Because, if you prevent this man from telegraphing, 
the colonel, by this time, believes you to be dead. He will 
think himself secure, while you can go up to Mayence and 
make every arrangement for his arrest, without him even 
dreaming that his nemesis is about to overtake him.” 


1 16 


“Yes, that is all true enough, but I am not yet sure that 
I desire to have anyone punished in this matter.” 

“Oh, but you cannot help yourself,” declared Frederic, 
“the law demands it. You have no right to let this fellow 
go free, who is guilty of attempt at murder according to his 
own confession, not to speak of my having caught him in 
the act.” 

“Yes, yes, I know all that, but do not let us precipitate 
matters. The whole affair has transpired so unexpectedly 
I am scarcely able to grasp it. Just imagine for one mo- 
ment the horror of the situation. There I was sitting and 
about to drink from a cup filled with deadly poison. I 
would have been dead by this time had it not been for your 
fortunate intervention. And such a terrible thing was 
planned by a man whom I never in my life even harmed 
with a thought, to be carried out by another man whom 
I treated in the friendliest manner from the moment I be- 
came acquainted with him. That is the person who now 
stands before us a self-confessed criminal, whose services 
were purchased by a nobleman, an aristocrat. I was aware 
the colonel hated me, but if aristocratic hatred is displayed 
by such villainy as hatching murder and assassination, I am 
sure all of us ought to be glad we are not aristocrats. How- 
ever, although you, Fred, caught this man ‘red-handed, as 
it were, and in spite of the plausibility of his story regard- 
ing Colonel Wuesthoff, I propose that we proceed cauti- 
ously. After all the whole thing may be nothing but a 
fabrication of his brain. It maybe all untrue what he says 
about Wuesthoff, and if we caused the colonel’s arrest on 
the mere statements of this pseudo peddler, to have them 
proved false afterward, I for one would never forgive myself 
for having wronged the man who was once my superior 
officer. I tell you what we can do. Let us keep this man 
under our own personal surveillance until to-morrow, when 
I will return with him to Mayence. If his allegations are 
correct he will not object to that. Arrived in Mayence he 
shall go to Herr von Wuesthoff to claim his reward for 
having poisoned me. The colonel believing his order to 
have been carried out, will, of course, hand over to him the 
prize. With the deed of the property in our possession we 
will have good evidence against the nobleman.” 

This plan semed a very good one to everybody, and 
even Schirmer agreed to every detail. Frederic, still sus- 


ii7 


picous reserved for himself the privilege of taking charge 
of the false peddler, and when the latter volunteered to 
being locked up and tied hand and foot, the ex soldier re- 
marked: 

“That will not be necessary. I know how to handle 
prisoners without putting them in chains. The best way 
to hold guard over anybody is to cover him with a loaded 
gun and never turn your eves from him.” 

“And I will stay with you Frederic,” broke in Phillip 
to assist in the performance, and if he then shows any 
disposition to take “French leave,” Karl will have to be 
satistied to take his corpse to Mayence.” 

“Very well then,” said Junker,” that being settled, let 
us go home. I am anxious to go and see my parents. 
Good by Herr Krebs, much obliged for your kindness.” 

The three young friends with the Mayence cobbler 
between them immediately left the “Golden Swan.” The 
distance to Winterthal was but a short walk. There was 
very little said by either of them the entire way. All seem- 
ed to be occupied with their own thoughts. Junker’s brain 
was all in a whirl trying to contemplate the results of the 
revenge of his former colonel. He congratulated himself 
upon his good fortune by which the murderous plans of 
Wuesthoff had been frustrated; and he was forced to smile 
as he mentally pictured the face of his future brother-in- 
law in the criminal dock of Mayence, charged with con- 
spiracy to kill him by poison. What humiliation fora man, 
who had such exceedingly exalted notions of his own im- 
portance, his position and his name, to be an accomplice in 
crime with a miserable, poverty-stricken shoe mender, a 
cobbler foresooth! Wuesthoff’s villany was very convincing 
evidence, that rascals are found in all classes of society, 
and that not even the blood of fifty ancestors will afford 
immunity to anybody from becoming a criminal. 

Then Junker began to think and wonder what the old 
general would say when the news came to his ears, and 
Helene — but here he was interrupted in his brown study by 
Philip, saying: 

“Well Karl you are near home now. Do you see 
your mother standing in the door and looking this 
way? — It is funny about mothers, but I wager, it was her 
instinct told her to come out. I guess she felt you were 
near, Look at her, don’t she seem just like she did when 


you saw her last? — There is that same white muslin cap, 
the prim calico dress, the large white linen apron, the 
glasses set in old silver on her nose, that beauty curl in 
front of each ear. What a nice looking lady she is. I tell 
you, if she were still single our younger village beauties 
would have a formidable rival in her — She has recognized 
you Karl, she is coming down the garden walk. — Good 
morning Frau Junker, we have brought him back safe and 
sound.” 

Phillip had been rattling away without anyone taking 
the least notice of his talk. He was a particular favorite of 
the old lady, who had brought him up, because his own 
mother died when he was born, and he had been singing 
the praises of his foster mother ever since he could prattle. 

No sooner had Karl noticed his mother on the door- 
step when he ran forward. They mec at the garden gate. 
He threw his arms around her neck and kissed her wrinkled 
cheeks in true childish affection. She, poor lady, all in a 
flutter with excitement could find no words to express her 
delight, her heart was overflowing with joy, and she wept. 
Then the two, mother and son, turned back towards the 
house, where Herr Junker stood in the door awaiting them. 

“Here you are at last Karl. Glad to see you, welcome 
home!” with this greeting the old man took his son by the 
hand and gave it a hearty shake. 

Frederic and Phillip with their prisoner had thought- 
fully remained behind, and the former remarked : 

“We had better leave them alone, they have so much 
to say to each other, we can come back later.” Then he 
turned to Schirmer : “Now Mr. Peddler you will have to 
come with us. Your imprisonment commences.” 

While they continued their walk through the village 
the two triends arranged how to take care of their prisoner. 
It was decided to place him in a room in Frederic’s house, 
and that one of them must remain with him as guard. The 
watch to be changed every four hours. 

It is but natural, that Karl Junker and his parents 
should have a great deal to talk about when they once got 
inside their home. There were many questions to be asked 
and answered. The mother was solicitous about her boy’s 
health. She wanted to know all about the food he had, 
whether he had been well provided with clothes, who 
sewed his buttons on and who darned bis socks. How 


1 1 9 


many blankets there had been on his bed in the winter, etc., 
etc. On the other hand Junker senior was more desirous 
to hear about some of the details of the life in the army. 
Having been a soldier himself, that was of course interest- 
ing to him, especially as it recalled some of the happiest 
days of his youth. Neither of them, however, asked one 
word about Fraeulein von Cannstatt. Not that they were 
not anxious to know, why, they were “just dying” to know 
all about it, but so delicate were the feelings of these simple- 
minded country people, they were satisfied to wait until 
their son was ready to broach the subject first. It was his 
love affair and they had every confidence in him that what- 
ever there might be in it Karl had been honest 

After awhile the mother had to run away into the 
kitchen, and then father and son got up to take a walk 
around the house, the stables, as well as the garden. They 
interviewed the poultry, the dogs and the pigs, the cows and 
the horses, and the old man proudly announced to each 
species of the animal kingdom, that his son, their young 
master, had come home again. 

Dinner being over, the two men strolled through the 
fields, and Karl thought it a very good opportunity to tell 
his father he had to go back to Mayence the next day. 
He related in detail the reason for this and also gave a full 
account of his relationship with Helene von Cannstatt. Old 
Junker listened with astonishment, but it was evident from 
the merry twinkle in his eye, he was not in the least dis- 
pleased. 

“That is quite a romantic love affair of yours, but I have 
no fault to find, all I ask is be honest about the matter. 
There is not a time in a man's life when he should be more 
in earnest, more honest, than at the time he is in love. 
Whatever your actions may be, their effects not only con- 
cern yourself, but you either beautify or else spoil the 
whole life of another; and remember that the other is a 
woman. Your mother was from a wordly point of view 
the poorest girl in this part of the country, but I loved her 
honestly, and we have always been happy together. Her 
poverty and my wealth never caused us a moments dis- 
agreement, and ifyou and this ladylove each other honestly 
her wealth and position can no more overwhelm you, than 
your station humiliate her.” 

“Thank you father for your kind words, believe me I 


120 


shall do nothing, to cause either you or mother one thought 
of pain. Now, I would like you to tell mother about my 
having to leave again to-morrow.” 

“I understand, my boy, you do not like to be your 
own messenger of such news, so soon after you have come 
home.” 

The bedroom has always been a sort of confessional for 
husband and wife. It is there they tell each other of their 
sorrows. It is there they share their joys. It is there 
where are to be found the scenes of the curtain lectures, 
and it is there the two put their heads together to devise 
plans for the benefit of the children. 

It was in the bedroom where the old German farmer 
told his ‘hausfrau’ all about the love affair of their son, 
where he unfolded to her the danger he had only escaped 
from that morning. Hence on the following morning when 
Frau Junker asked him : 

“Are you going back this afternoon ?” he felt relieved, 
and smilingly replied : 

“This afternoon, mother, but I shall not be gone long, 
and when I return, I hope to bring you back a daughter as 
well as a son. 

It was after dinner when the same four, Karl, his two 
friends and Schirmer, who had walked into Winterthal the 
day before, left together on their return journey to the 
Golden Swan. It had been decided by Karl’s friends, that 
the moment he was to step into the stage for Cologne, 
Schirmer should be left in his care, but until then these two 
proposed to keep their prisoner in their personal charge. 
They arrived at the famous hostelry long ere the “Post- 
wagen” was due, and to while away the time all agreed to 
go into the Bowling alley. The game of bowling is a fa- 
vorite sport with the young men in that part of Germany, 
and as Schirmer declared himself to be also an adept at the 
play, an enjoyable time was looked forward to. The ‘’pins” 
had already been set up, and they were about to begin the 
game, when they suddenly heard a noise, as if a "detach- 
ment of artillery were aproaching. 

“What is that?” Fredric and Phillip exclaimed simul- 
taneously. 

“It must be the stage, ahead of time.” 

“No, such a thing as the stage ahead of time has 
never been heard of. Let us go and see, it must be some- 


I 2 I 


thing out of the ordinary, just listen to the racket. “With 
the inborn curiosity characteristic of all countryborn people, 
they had to go and see. The game was abandoned, of course. 

In the front of the hotel they found a large fourwheel- 
ed carriage, drawn by four fine looking horses in the act of 
pulling up, while mine host of the Swan came rushing out 
of the house as well as the rotundity of his person and 
shortness of breath would permit him. 

“The Extra-Post! The Extra-Post!” he shouted. 

“The Extra— Post?” asked one of the young men. 
“Then you must be expecting someone of importance?” 

“No, we are not expecting anyone anymore, than that 
a man keeping a hotel is always looking for guests. The 
Extra-Post comes at all hours of the day and night. 

By this time the vehicle had came to a standstill. In 
the capacious front set, i-e- the box, were the driver, a 
young man and a young woman, the last two evidently 
being servants. They all hurrriedly jumped down- from 
their lofty places, and the young man opened the carriage 
door. 

“We are at the Golden Swan, Herr General, half an 
hour from Winterthal,” he was heard to address somebody 
in the vehicle. 

“Why do we not go on then?” was the impatient retort 
from inside. 

“The driver says, he will have to change horses.” 

“How long will that take him?” 

“Ten minutes.” 

“Very well then, tell him to hasten.” 

The man disappeared, and the boniface of the Swan 
strutted with an air of affected importance to the carriage 
door, where he took off his cap and bowed very ceremoni- 
ously. Junker, who had also been watching all that had 
been going on in front of the hotel, felt an unaccountable 
interest for these travelers awaken within him. Moved by 
intuition more than curiosity he was drawn towards the 
carriage by an invisible power, and soon he found himself 
looking over the shoulders of the hotel keeper into the 
vehicle. To his utmost astonishment he recognized the 
travelers, tor he beheld: General von Cannstatt and Helene. 

“With a smiling” Guten Tag,” and how do you do?” 
he gently pushed the proprietor of the Swan on one side 
and raising his hat, again addressed the travelers, who had 


122 


been too much surprised at his appearance to be able to 
answer him. 

Helene, however, recovered from her surprise very 
quickly, and after she had expressed her delight to Junker 
at seeing him, she turned to her father with the remark: 

“There, Papa, did I not tell you we, should find Karl 
alive and well?” 

The old nobleman appeared to be still unable to fully 
realize the young man was actually standing before him, 
and while he yet endeavored to grasp the fact, Junker, with 
an expression of astonishment on his face ejaculated : 

“But you surely did not think me dead?” 

“I did, and what is more I was almost sure of it. We 
will tell you all about it later on. This is hardly the place. 

Will you not come out of the carriage. I am convinced 
you are tired of being rolled over the rough roads. The 
Golden Swan is an excellent hotel, and I will see that every 
comfort is afforded you for a rest after your journey.” 

It was a welcome invitation to the father and daughter, 
who were neither accustomed to traveling in a coach, even 
if it was the Extra-Post; and now, that they had practically 
achieved the object of their journey, they were glad to leave 
the carriage. Junker made it his business to see that the 
two travelers were waited upon hand and foot. When he 
announced the names of the new guests to the astonished 
innkeeper, the latter literally fell into the house over the 
steps, and for the next quarter of an hour orders of all 
kinds were kept up incessantly among the servants. It was 
a great day for the Golden Swan when nobility stopped 
there. 

When Herr von Cannstatt and his daughter were 
comfortably quartered in the best parlor of the hotel, the 
general gave Karl a detailed account of the reason that had 
brought them on this journey. During the narration of 
these facts, the young man’s mind was busily occupied 
listening and trying to find in what he heard a thread to 
his own experiences. 

When the general came to the end of his story, the 
young man said : 

“The infamy of colonel von Wuesthofif astonishes me 
beyond conception. I know that all this is very painful 
news to you, but listen to me, and you will see that I am 
not making such a statement without the most positive 


123 


proof. There is no doubt in my mind, I would be dead 
now, if the machinations of that gentleman had not mis- 
carried.” 

When Junker had completed a detailed rendering of his 
experiences since he left Mayence, both father and daugh- 
ter sat there dumbfounded. 

“The dastardly conduct of Wuesthoff fills me with 
shame and abhorrence, “indignantly remarked the general, 
“and I am at a loss as to what could have possessed him to 
concoct such a fiendish plan against your life. I am positively 
horrified at the thought, that this man is the husband of my 
daughter, and that in my declining years our family has to 
be so villianously disgraced by one of its members. What 
pazzles me most is my inability to conceive of a motive 
Wuesthoff might have had for such a monstrous plot. 

“His motive,” broke in Helene, “to my mind, does not 
consist so much in any personal hatred against Karl, as in 
the absurd notion, that he ought to prevent the formation 
of any closer relationship between us at all harzards, in 
order to maintain and uphold the dignity of his aristocratic 
position. It was a plan conceived by his brain, diseased 
with the conviction that Karl was a dangerous enemy of 
the nobility, who must be put out of the way at any cost.” 

The late member of the Mayence barracks might have 
thrown some light upon the reasons for Wuesthoff’s re 
venge, which had more foundation in fact, but he nobly 
refrained frQm offering further particulars of enlightenment 
upon the colonel’s character. 

“Ah, well, let us abandon the subject and be thankful 
Junker was fortunate enough to meet with such a miraca- 
lous escape from a horrible death. I have a plan the de- 
tails of which I will present to you both some other time, 
which, if it meets with your views, will open a future for all 
of us that will transport us from the environments of class 
and class distinctions into a haven of absolute equality, into 
a place where a man is esteemed for what he is, for what he 
has made himself, and not for what others have made him.” 

“General,” smilingly interrupted Karl, “you are de- 
scribing the country of the millennium.” 

“No, I am not, but it is the land where the millennium 
will surely dawn when the rest of the world will still be 
hovering in darkness and battling with the traditions of 
former ages. But, apropos, what do you intend to do with 


124 


this man from Mayence, who was hired to poison you ?” 

“Let him go home and claim the reward for the crime 
he never committed.” 

“Then you do not propose to enter criminal proceed- 
ings against him and Wuesthoff?” 

“Certainly not ; nothing could induce me to go into 
court against a relative of Helene’s, especially in a case of 
this nature.” 

“You are a noble-hearted boy, Junker, and I appreciate • 
the delicacy of your sentiments and consideration.” 

“It is very kind of you to say so, general, but I believe 
I am only doing what is right, am I not Helene?” 

“Whatever you do it could not be wrong in my opin- 
ion!” replied the young lady, coming close to Junker and 
placing her hand confidingly in his, while her eyes looked 
up at him radiant with the sparkle of unspeakable pride. 

“Very well, then, young people,” the old nobleman 
continued the conversation, “let us end our journey to Win- 
terthal. Now we are so close I am anxious to see your 
parents, Junker. I would like to renew my former ac- 
quaintance with your father, and thank your mother for 
having brought up a boy of whom she has every reason to 
be proud.” 

The ex-private was pleased beyond expression when 
he heard that the general and Helene were to be his guests 
in his parents' home. Orders for a speedy departure from 
the Swan were given and promptly carried .out. Then 
Junker went to look for Frederick, and when he informed 
that young man that circumstances had arisen which made 
it necessary to let the false peddler go free, this announce- 
ment was met with indignant objections. Still in the end 
Karl prevailed as usual. Then Schirmer was called aside. 

“You are at liberty to go where you please,” Junker 
addressed that astonished man. “I know I ought to have 
you arrested and let the law take its course, but I have 
come to a different conclusion. After all you were only the 
tool in the hands of somebody else, and while you are a 
criminal theoretically, I will let you go on the condition 
that you return to Mayence, see the colonel and claim the 
reward promised you in case you were successful.” 

“I will do exactly as you want me to,” replied the cob- 
bler, “and I thank you for your generosity to let. me off sq 
easily,” 


125 


“Do not thank me, man, but thank my friend, who pre- 
vented you from becoming a murderer. Good bye.” 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

In order to apprise his parents of the coming guests to 
the farm, Karl had sent Phillip ahead, and when that young 
man reached Winterthal with the news, as to who were 
coming, it is not difficult to imagine the excitement which 
was produced among the simple village folk by this infor- 
mation. When Phillip had completed his mission at the 
Junker homestead, he went into the village, and it was not 
long until the entire population was agogwith the interest- 
ing announcement that a nobleman and his daughter were 
coming to Winterthal as the guests of the Junkers, and 
what was more wonderful, that young Karl was engaged 
to be married to the lady.. It was a startling story, and ere 
many days had passed it spread throughout the “Ber- 
gische Lande,” where even to day one can hear the story 
told with prismatic colorings. That a farmer’s son should 
marry a lady of the nobility, a real countess, forsooth, had 
never been heard of by even the oldest man or woman in 
the province, and one cannot be astonished that the effect 
of such news should be electrifying. For the next month 
or more, and even after the objects of their curiosity had 
already departed, Winterthal was the Mecca for all the sur- 
rounding towns, hamlets and villages, and the wedding was 
everywhere spoken of as a new wonder of the world. Those 
who had been fortunate enough to obtain a glimpse of the 
bride went away with an expression on their countenances 
filled with gratification that indicated their earthly ambi- 
tion had reached its acme. 

When Frau Junker received the announcement that 
Karl had abandoned his journey to Mayence, and was 
about to return with such important guests, she at once set 
about getting the house ready for the reception of the vis- 
itors. She naturally looked anxiously forward to their 
coming, wondering all the time what Helene might be like. 
This suspense, however, was not of very long duration. The 
party arrived, the formal introductions were gone through, 
and from the very moment the young countess shook hands 
with her prospective mother-in law, supplementing it by 
the filial salutation of a kiss, the old lady opened her heart 


2 6 


to the young girl and gave her a true mother’s love. Frau 
Junker had expected to meet a proud, haughty, unap- 
proachable lady of lofty air and bearing, such as she had al- 
ways understood the women of the aristocracy to be, hence 
her disappointment was of a very pleasant character, for in 
Helene she found the ideal girl her fond mother’s heart 
had always pictured to herself as the proper wife for her 
only son. 

The old farmer’s wife was a good manager and house- 
keeper, and the guests did not cause her the least incon- 
vience, nor was there anything wanting to make their stay 
agreeable. The Junkers were simple, honest people, and in 
her attentions Frau Junker made no pretentions. She gave 
them the best her circumstances could afford. That the 
general and his daughter were pleased with their hosts was 
evident, the old nobleman remarking to Helene the second 
day after their arrival : 

“I have slept better here than I have done for years, 
and l am as comfortable as I have ever been in my life.” 

“It is pleasant to hear you say so, papa,” replied 
Helene, “as for myself I must admit I never was in a more 
delightful place. I find the air is especially salubrious and 
invigorating.” 

They were both greatly attracted by the beautiful gar- 
den in the rear of the house, where a summer house, cov- 
ered with large leaves of a grapevine prevented the pene- 
tration of the sun’s hot rays, and where the many flowers 
diffused a delicious fragrance on the balmy breeze. Here 
they were on a certain afternoon enjoying the hospitality 
of Frau Junker leisurely sipping tea from the old-fashioned 
china cups when Karl came in to join them. 

“Now that we are all together, Papa!” Helene suddenly 
turned the conversation from ordinary subjects, “suppose 
you tell us about your plans for the future so mysteriously 
hinted at the other day.” 

“Ah, yes, I may as well, although I had intended to 
wait a little longer, but I dare say the sooner the matter is 
unfolded, the sooner shall I know, whether my ideas meet 
your views. Listen to me then: — Since Wuesthoff has 
proved himself such a villian, and since my acquaintance 
with you, Junker, has led me to the discovery, that a man 
may be a nobleman without possessing the titular append- 
age of an aristocratic name, I have come to the conclusion, 


12 7 


the social conditions of our country, as they exist to-day 
are a sham. They are degrading the ruling class and hum- 
iliating the people. I am now convinced it is a gross 
debasement of the human race to permit a certain small 
number of its members, who by the accident of birth are in 
a position to enumerate their forefathers by a long string 
of ancestors, should on that account be allowed privileges 
and advantages, which others not distinguished in that 
respect, are to be deprived of. Were the average member 
of this superior class endowed with qualities, virtues and 
characteristics of an equally superior order, then I would 
say there were reasons entitling them to the enjoy mer\t of 
preferences. But the more I think over this and the 
oftener I study this point in a dispassionate, unprejudiced 
manner I am forced to admit the reverse is the case. Born 
an aristocrat I am ashamed to make this statement.” 

“Our greatest men in war, in art, in literature in 
science have been decendents from the people. It is the 
people, who have made Germany what she is, but the 
aristocracy has reaped the reward, and what is worse 
appropriated it without the least show of gratitude. Arist- 
ocracy holds itself aloof from those, who have weft the 
purple, which covers their shoulders. What is more, it is 
the constant aim of the nobility to maintain that barrier of 
distinction by every conceiveable means. Of course this 
cannot last forever. The revolution, which has recently 
swept over Europe was merely the forerunner of the storm, 
that will some day break loose over this country and 
demolish these idols of tradition, the heritage of the middle 
ages. I will not live to see it, even you may have passed 
away ere the death knell for aristocracy will sound in dole- 
ful discord over our fatherland, but it will come.” 

The genereral stopped. He seemed to be very much 
affected by the subject of his remarks. Still he did not 
appear excited. After awhile he continued : 

“There is but one country, where the bane of aristo- 
cracy is not known. That country is America. There the 
social distinctions, of birth, of calling, do not exist. There 
the code of law that rules the artisan rules with the same 
vigor over the millionaire. In short my proposition to you 
both is : Let us go to America, “the land of the free, the 
home of the brave.” 

Karl and Helene sat and listened to the general with 


28 


astonishment plainly visible on their faces. For some time 
neither spoke. Junker could scarcely believe his ears. 
Here were the views, which he had cherished in his ardent 
soul for years, uttered by a man belonging to that class, 
who were tacitly recognized as the enemies of such ideas, 
who branded them as treason. At last he replied : 

“The grandeur and nobility of your sentiments on the 
social equality of man is overwhelming, and although it 
may not be a compliment to you I must say that I coincide 
with you exactly. It has been the dream of my life to go 
to America. Yet under present circumstances I would 
prefer to have Helene give her decision before I offer my 
opinion. Whatever she thinks and says expresses my 
views.” 

“If Papa wants to leave Germany and you have been 
wanting to go to America all your life, I shall certainly feel 
no anxiety to remain behind. Wherever you desire to go 
there will be my home.” 

“That being the case,” rejoined Herr von Cannstatt, 
“there is nothing to prevent the speedy consummation of 
my plans. I am indeed glad you have fallen in with my 
views so readily ; and now I propose we do not tarry in 
Europe any longer than is absolutely necessary. To this 
end of course a great deal will yet have to be done. There 
is your wedding and a settlement of our affairs before we 
can leave, but I have thought over all that. To begin with, 
Junker, I want you to bring me a notary public from the 
neighborhood, in order that I may legally empower you to 
represent me and transact business for me. I have 
decided upon this, because as I told you already, my affairs 
are very much entangled. I am really too old to attend to 
these matters myself. Then I am not a good business man, 
and since you promised to be my business manager I am 
anxious to see you start in your position. I should judge 
that this will occupy you about a month, during which 
period Helene and I, with the kind permission of your 
parents, will remain here. She will want time to get ready 
for the wedding, and I am anxious to get a long rest to 
prepare myself for the coming voyage across the Atlantic 
ocean. Now, what do you say to an old man’s arrange- 
ments?” 

“They are entirely satisfactory to me,” answered 
Junker, grasping the general’s hand with great fervor. 


129 


“And to me also, you dear, thoughtful Papa/' added 
the young lady, while she literally showered kisses upon 
the old nobleman. “And when we get into our new home 
across the sea I shall make you so happy and comfortable, 
you will never have time nor inclination to look longingly 
back to the past.” 

The general’s arrangements were all carried out to the 
letter. While he wrote personally for his resignation from 
the army, Karl followed the instructions laid out for him. 
He had a hard task, but he acquitted himself to the utmost 
satisfaction of Herr von Cannstatt. He disposed of all the 
property except the ancestral estate. The latter he left in 
charge of a trusty agent, who had to render him an account- 
ing every three months. During this business trip Junker 
had to pass through Mayence. He did not go to see his 
future brother-in-law, be he had an interview with Schirmer, 
from whom he learned, that von Wuesthoff had been in- 
formed of the mis-carriage of the plan to have him poison- 
ed, but that he had nevertheless given him the deed of his 
little house, which was now his property. 

“I believe he did that,” said the cobbler, “to assure 
himself of my secrecy about the whole affair, in fact, he gave 
me to understand as much.” 

In a month Karl returned home, all his commissions 
completed. The arrangements for the wedding had also 
been perfected in the meantime under the supervision of 
Helene and Frau Junker. Although it had been the wishes 
of the parties directly concerned to have the ceremony con- 
ducted in a very quiet manner, the whole village insisted 
upon participating in the event. Frederic and Phillip of 
course were prominently connected with the affair, and 
both seemed to be untiring in their efforts to see that every- 
thing went off with the necessary eclat. 

On the day succeeding the wedding, General von 
Cannstatt. Mrs. Karl Junker and the former “Apollo of the 
Barracks” left their fatherland for America, where they 
arrived in due time, ready to start a new life, in which, I am 
pleased to chronicle, they enjoyed much happiness. 

The general lived for many years, made happy by his 
children and grandchildren. Communications from Ger- 
many reached them but seldom. Only a year ago they 
heard that von Wuesthoff had been shot and killed, but who 
the perpetrator of the deed was, could never be found out f 


although there were rumors around the barracks that the 
bullet had been fired by a private soldier out of revenge for 
maltreatment, which the young man had suffered at the 
hands of the colonel. 

The lady von YVuesthoff had preceeded her husband 
to the grave by several years, as the result of an accident 
while out driving. 

Mr. and Mrs. Junker are now residing in one of the 
large cities in the eastern states. They have been several 
times in Germany since the general died, but they are 
always glad when they return to the shores of the United 
States, and even now they often say to each other : 

“It was a happy inspiration of the dear General, when 
he asked us to make our home in this country.” 


FINIS. 


A NOVEL, 


by ERNEST H. HEINRICHS. 



NICHOLSON, PRINTER, 
PITTSBURGH. 







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